


you're in my veins

by smartalli



Series: i don't have a choice, but i still choose you [6]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 01:23:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 106
Words: 60,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11521596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smartalli/pseuds/smartalli
Summary: A series of comment fics, small moments in the life of Harvey and Mike, in this universe or countless others. Originally posted on tumblr. [Every chapter is a single fic.]You can find me on tumblr ascrazyassmurdererwall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these little fics are not explicit. Only a couple drive the rating up.

  
It’s just past three in the morning when they finally push back from the Waldorf case and take a breather. Harvey lost his tie hours ago, Mike has been shoe-less since just past ten, and the pizza went cold long ago. Mike picks halfheartedly at a piece of pepperoni, takes a bite, throws the rest of the slice back into the opened box and sinks down into the sofa next to Harvey. Sighs. Harvey sets his glass of scotch down on the coffee table, leans into the arm, closes his eyes briefly as John Coltrane plays softly from the record player.

When he looks over at Mike he’s less than surprised to see Mike’s hands braced behind his head, his eyes closed, chest rising and falling evenly. His mouth parts and a small breath huffs out, and Harvey tilts his head, nudges Mike’s knee gently with the tip of his shoe.

Mike doesn’t stir.

Mike can fall asleep practically anywhere. Harvey’s paid witness to it more than once. Under the table in the file room…in the back of the town car…sitting at his desk…and once, standing up in the shower with Harvey standing behind him, arms wrapped tightly around Mike’s torso.

He could let him stay as he is but he’ll no doubt have a crick in his neck in the morning and the last thing Harvey wants is to hear Mike bitching about it all day.

So it’s really an act of self-preservation when Harvey wraps his hand around Mike’s neck and pulls him gently to lay down on the sofa, his head in Harvey’s lap. Mike fusses and shifts and Harvey runs his fingers through Mike’s hair. Mike sighs and burrows his face into Harvey’s stomach, body going completely lax as his feet fall off the end of the sofa.

Harvey’s phone goes off, the hum muffled by the leather case it sits on.

He ignores it.


	2. Chapter 2

Harvey manages to hold out for ten minutes before he finally grabs Mike by the tie and tugs him across the center of the back seat. Mike loses his balance, sputters, waves his hands around ineffectually as he practically ends up in Harvey’s lap.

“Hey! No! Bad touch!”

Mike slaps at his hands and Harvey silences him with an eye roll, tugging him even closer as his hands knot Mike’s tie with practiced movements.

“Dude. Seriously. I can do it. I’m not completely inept. You don’t have to-”

There’s really only one way Harvey can think of to shut him up.

Mike’s mouth is warm against his, dry, responsive. When Harvey pulls back Mike follows him briefly, then licks his lips.

“You might want to buckle up.” Harvey turns to face forward. “And don’t call me dude.”


	3. Chapter 3

Donna loves Audrey like she’s her own, would do absolutely anything for her, but she’s just starting to realize she should have taken Mike seriously when he told her that Audrey would have a hard time settling at night without them. Donna had shrugged him off with her typical nonchalance, just barely resisting calling him overprotective.

She’s Donna, for fuck’s sake…she can handle an eighteen-month-old little girl for a few nights while Mike and Harvey are out of town.

Except now she’s facing a teary-eyed, wobby-lipped, exhausted little girl in princess pajamas who wants her dads and wants to sleep and wants Donna to make everything better and Donna can’t because Harvey won’t pick up his damn phone and Mike’s keeps going to voicemail and nothing Donna does soothes her at all.

She sinks down onto the chair next to Audrey’s crib, cell phone in her hands. Audrey stares at her through the bars of the crib, clutches her stuffed otter to her chest, makes unhappy, restless little noises in the back of her throat.

“I know.”

The phone buzzes in her hand and she looks down and feels the relief flood over her when Mike’s name pops up on the screen.

What’s wrong?

She ignores the text and calls him back, eyerolls when he forces an apology out of her for ever calling him an overprotective parent. Eyerolls even harder when she hears Mike call out her apology to Harvey and she picks up his amused laugh in the background.

Mike tells Donna to pull Audrey out of her crib and she sits her on her lap, picks up the laptop off to the side, opens Skype and logs in. And there’s Mike, smiling at the screen, looking happy and rested and calm - of course - and Donna wants to kill him.

Except it’s like a switch has been flipped in Audrey and she’s happy and giggly and reaching for the screen, calling out Daddy! Daddy! Daddy! and Donna is kind of in love with him for that.

She’ll hold off on the killing. For now.

“Hey ladybug. Are you giving your Aunt Donna a hard time?”

Audrey reaches forward, touches Mike’s face on the screen, pushes the head of her stuffed otter into her mouth.

Mike smiles softly at her. “I miss you too. So does Papa.”

Harvey’s face appears over Mike’s shoulder and Audrey reaches out for him too, calling, “Papa! Papa! Papa!”

Harvey settles in front of the screen as Mike moves away and starts making goofy, ridiculous faces that make the little girl giggle and grin. Audrey leans back against Donna, her eyes transfixed on her dad on the screen in front of her. Harvey makes silly noises and starts in on a bedtime story and Donna quickly realizes something as Audrey’s head falls back to rest against her.

This is not a Harvey she knows.

As long as she’s known him, and as well as she knows him, she does not know this Harvey - the man who makes silly faces and tells bedtime stories, the man whose attention is fixed on his little girl as if she’s the only one who matters. 

And she is. Donna could very well be furniture, for all either of them care right now.

Harvey’s voice starts to lower and soften, and Donna feels Audrey calm, slump more of her weight against her. Donna looks down into her face to see Audrey’s eyelids starting to fall, her breathing slowing. It takes a few more minutes before she’s finally asleep, and Donna looks back at the screen to see a softly smiling Harvey watching his daughter for a minute, his face unguarded.

And that’s a Harvey she doesn’t know either.

She’s seen his defenses down, she’s seen him hurt, she’s seen him angry and pained, but she’s never seen this. This is intentional. This is a choice.

Mike moves back into the screen and Harvey looks at him the same way as he did Audrey, happy and unguarded and calm. These are the two people he loves: fiercely, honestly, unquestioningly.

Donna stands to put Audrey to bed, carefully laying her down, holding her breath, hoping beyond hope the little girl doesn’t wake up. She shifts and curls her toes but doesn’t wake, and Donna watches the pacifier go in and out of her mouth a few times before she sits down in the chair with a sigh. She looks over at the laptop, sees Mike smiling at her from the screen, and picks it up, sets it on her lap.

She shifts her eyes over to the crib one more time but shifts them back to the screen when she hears Mike’s soft laugh.

“She’s out for the night.”

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

He grins, brings his knee up to his chest, rests his chin on it. He’s in his pajamas now, a pair of blue plaid pants and a gray Harvard t-shirt, and he looks so happy she actually smiles at him through her exhaustion.

She likes to claim she’s worked up an immunity to the puppy, but she’s not quite there yet. 

Not that she’s telling him that.

“Thanks for watching her for us. Harvey wouldn’t have left her with anyone else.”

She knows that’s true. And really, even though she’s more than a little frustrated and she’s tired out of her mind, she can’t imagine someone else doing it either. The moment Audrey was born, she was a little bit Donna’s.

Besides, someone has to teach her how to take over the world.


	4. Chapter 4

She practically has his dick in a vise, and she knows it, but that doesn’t bother him, not really. He knows their history together has put a cap on what she’s willing to do to him to teach him a lesson, and he can handle another rap on the nose from a proverbial newspaper from her. She gave him this life, it’s fine if she knocks him down a peg or two once in a while.

She doesn’t have the same affection for Mike.

He should have told her, he really should have, but he couldn’t make himself do it. He couldn’t bring himself to tarnish what he and Mike had by admitting that he’d kept this from her - hidden it like he was ashamed - and he couldn’t bear to shove Mike in front of her like he was prepping him for the slaughter. Because Harvey is not an idiot. He knew how she’d react when she found out.

He just doesn’t know what she’s going to do with the information.

“Harvey…you have a minute?”


	5. Chapter 5

The message is short.

_Meet me at Angelo’s. Eight. Don’t be late._

It’s a Sunday night. Warm. Fall is just starting to show itself and Mike weaves his way through a crowd of smokers outside the restaurant, steps in through the front door, nods at the hostess when she looks up at him from the reservation book in front of her.

“I’m here to meet Harvey Sp-”

She nods with a smile. “Sure. He’s waiting for you. This way.”

She leads him to a table toward the back and Mike meets Harvey’s eyes as the distance between them shrinks, as he sits. Harvey tilts his head slightly and refuses to drop his gaze, and Mike takes the menu from the hostess without looking at it when she holds it out in front of him.

He murmurs out a thanks. Harvey does the same, calls the hostess by name, orders a drink for Mike when he can’t seem to form the words to ask for one himself. 

“So you come here a lot, then?”

“Enough.”

Mike nods, darts his tongue out to lick his dry lips. 

They still haven’t broken eye contact and Mike feels it like a challenge now, every crinkle of Harvey’s eye, every twitch of the lips daring Mike to be the first one to break out of whatever this is, whatever they’re finally allowing themselves to acknowledge. Mike feels a little like prey, trapped by Harvey’s full attention, and it’s a dangerous, breathless feeling.

“So what did Anderson-”

“I didn’t bring you here to talk about work.”

Mike licks his lips again. “No?”

“No.”


	6. Chapter 6

Mike doesn’t want to be that guy, okay? He never wants to be _that guy_ \- because what is he, a character in a Hallmark movie? - but all of Harvey’s time has been sucked up by the Donovan/Tubbs merger, and Louis has co-opted Mike’s services for his own cases, and what that really means is that Mike has been sleeping at his apartment and Harvey has been sleeping at his, and neither the twain shall meet.

Or, in layman’s terms: Mike really misses actually spending time with his boyfriend. In the morning. At night. In the middle of the day. Sex in the shower. Having lunch together. Early morning blowjobs. Winding down at the end of the day with Harvey’s dad on the record player and a glass of Scotch in Harvey’s hand, a beer in Mike’s. 

And did he happen to mention the sex?

(Because yeah, he kinda sorta maybe misses that too.)

It might be easier if it seemed to effect Harvey at all, but every time Mike sneaks a look at him from Donna’s desk or when they pass each other in the hall, Harvey’s face is as masked as ever. There’s the occasional flirty or snarky text that Mike reads on his way upstairs to his apartment, and a brush of the fingers on Mike’s shoulders when Harvey thinks the coast is clear, but it’s not enough. It’s maddening really, and it makes Mike feel a little like he’s alone in his relative misery. 

They’re able to get together once or twice, but really it’s just to fall into bed together exhausted in the early hours of the morning, barely even touching, much less doing anything remotely crazy like, you know, talking to each other. And it makes Mike feel farther away from Harvey than he ever has.

He’s sure the feeling will pass. They’ll get back to working together soon enough, and it’ll be like nothing changed. (This is something he has to actively remind himself at eleven o'clock at night, when Louis is doing his best impersonation of King of the Creepers, and Mike gets the sinking feeling - possibly caused by a combination of too much Red Bull and Kung Pao chicken - that this is what his life is, and there’s no coming back from it.)

And Mike thinks he’s hiding it pretty well when he gets a text from Harvey.

_Stop looking at me like that. Friday. Be ready at 9. Dress casual._

Nine turns into nine thirty, nine thirty turns into ten, and eventually he just stops watching the clock. He sits at Donna’s desk and plays with her office supplies, makes chains out of her paper clips and mini origami cranes out of post-it notes, and waits for Harvey to be finished. Mike no longer expects anything out of this date - stopped expecting anything fourteen paper clip chains ago - but he can’t really bear to leave either. He’s not sure if what he wants is an apology so much as simple recognition of how shitty this is, but at this point he’d take either.

Mike kicked his shoes off a long time ago, so maybe he knew he’d be here for the long haul, and he digs his toes into the low pile carpet, spins the dials on Donna’s date stamp, wonders when settling for something he barely gets to call his own will stop sounding like the right choice.

“You’re mad.”

“No.” And he’s not, not really. He’d just like this to matter as much to Harvey as it does to him, and maybe that’s unrealistic. He doesn’t know.

“You were gone when I woke up this morning.”

Mike nods, watches the date stamp in his hands as he slowly spins the numbered dials. 

“I didn’t like it.”

Mike nods again, sets the date stamp down. Looks up. “I’m going to go home.”

Mike slips his shoes on, ties them, stands and walks away without looking back at Harvey. He slips his hands in his jacket pockets as he waits for the elevator and when it arrives, slips in, turns, presses the button for the lobby. Then he slips his hand back into his pocket and meets Harvey’s eyes as the elevator doors close between them.

When Harvey shows up at Mike’s apartment later that night he doesn’t say anything, just stands in the doorway and waits for Mike to invite him in. Mike finally gets a good look at his face and wonders how long Harvey’s looked this way, vaguely unsettled and pained around the edges.

Maybe Mike isn’t the only frustrated one.


	7. Chapter 7

Harvey isn’t sure what he expects when he answers the door five minutes shy of midnight, but it isn’t Mike with a growing bruise under his eye and blood on his shirt, eyes broken and pained.

Harvey hisses, reaches forward to grip Mike’s chin and turn his face to get a better look at the shiner. Mike flinches and Harvey grimaces apologetically.

“What happened?”

Mike shakes his head minutely, stares with blank eyes at Harvey’s door. Harvey turns Mike’s head, his thumb on Mike’s chin, forcing Mike to meet his eyes.

“What happened?” Mike’s eyes finally meet his, shiny and sad. Harvey feels a clenching in his gut, pulls him forward into the condo, shuts the door behind them. “Mike?”

Mike’s eyes dart around Harvey’s condo, land on the paperwork open on the table.

Mike swallows. “Trevor.”

Harvey steps in front of Mike, into his line of vision. “Trevor did this?”

Mike’s eyes are weary, defeated. “Doesn’t matter.” He tugs at his tie, looks down at the floor. “Just…he’s _Trevor_ , and I…I don’t know-”

Harvey wraps his hand around the back of Mike’s neck, rubs his thumb along the younger man’s hairline, pulls him forward.

“He’s Trevor.”

“Yeah.”


	8. Chapter 8

The news isn’t good.

It isn’t bad either, not really, but Harvey’s not an idiot. He knows how these things work. He knows what _the tests were inconclusive_ usually means.

Mike is quiet in the car on the way to the office, fingers gently rubbing his lips as he stares out the window. The silence is like a weight that settles in Harvey’s gut, hard and wrong, and he wants to dispel it, but the only things he can think to say wouldn’t do either of them any good.

They’d made the appointment weeks ago, scheduling the earliest time they could so it wouldn’t impact the rest of their day. Now Harvey wishes they hadn’t, wishes they’d scheduled it so they could go home. He doesn’t know how he’s going to make it through the rest of the day with the tests were inconclusive ringing through his head, doesn’t know how Mike will manage to keep a straight face. They will, because they have to, he just doesn’t know how they’ll manage it, not when Harvey feels like he’s a half second away from hitting something. Hard.

_Mike has his whole life ahead of him._

_His life has been hard enough as it is._

_They’ve only been married for six months._

It took Harvey a long time to let himself love Mike, even longer to allow anything to happen between them. But he had to be sure. Because he knew as soon as he let Mike in, that would be it. There would never be anyone else again. For the rest of his life, for the rest of their lives, it would be HarveyandMike.

Only now it’s looking like the rest of their lives means Harvey living his life out alone, without the man he loves more than he thought he ever could, and he feels the panic rising.

He can’t do it. He can’t. He doesn’t know how to live without him, not now that he has him. And he shouldn’t have to.

Harvey reaches out and grabs Mike’s hand, curls his fingers into Mike’s palm. Mike looks over at him, meets his eyes, flips his hand over and laces their fingers together. Squeezes.

Holds on tight.


	9. Chapter 9

Harvey shouldn’t be here, doesn’t deserve to be, not after what he said.

But he can’t leave, can’t bear to. Not now. He has to make Mike understand just how sorry he is. Has to make him listen. Has to make him understand that Harvey didn’t mean it. He didn’t mean any of it.

Mike is just so damn _precious_ to him that he couldn’t bear to talk about what they have, couldn’t bear to lay it out there for other people to judge. And he’s so used to giving people a few clever words designed to be loopholes to the truth that sometimes he doesn’t know how to speak the truth plainly, especially not about things that actually matter. 

And nothing has ever mattered the way Mike matters.

So he leans against the wall and he waits for Mike to wake, early morning sun starting to creep through the windows of Mike’s Brooklyn apartment, hands shoved deep in his pockets, eyes trained on the floor, and he hopes Mike will listen. Hopes he can make Mike understand that through all the bullshit Harvey said last night, through all of his clever, clever words designed as a verbal sleight of hand, what he really wanted to say was,

_Yes, Mike’s mine. And I’m his._


	10. Chapter 10

It becomes a thing.

Long after Daniel Hardman is gone from their lives, it remains a thing.

The pineapple is rarely flower-shaped, and it’s rarely pineapple, really - it’s a burger, or it’s a beer, or it’s pad thai, or it’s a California roll, or it’s whatever else Mike has decided to eat that day. It’s always Mike’s food, and Mike is always the one to hand it over for Harvey to take, waiting for Harvey to agree how good it is, waiting for Harvey to voice his approval.

And Harvey, for his part, is always the one who spins the pineapple around to eat from the same spot Mike did, to twist the glass and put his lips exactly where Mike put his.

Harvey always takes what Mike offers these days, rarely has to be coaxed into anything Mike is willing to give him, but Mike plays at it anyway, uses silly cartoon voices every time and hands the food over with, “I love you, Harvey.”

Harvey wonders if Mike understands what it means that he’s stopped protesting, that he’s allowed this little thing of theirs to become a constant.

Wonders if Mike knows Harvey is always a split second away from saying, “I love you, too.”

But of course he does.

Mike is the smartest man Harvey’s ever known.


	11. Chapter 11

When Mike started working for Harvey, there were a lot of things he imagined them doing together. 99% of them were work related: going over briefs, meeting with clients, kicking serious ass in the courtroom.

He tries not to think about the 1% too much, not just because he suspects it’s fueled chiefly by the ache of loneliness and the desperation of too many beers knocked back too fast in the late hours of the night, but because he always figured it was something he could never have. And if his life moving forward with Harvey had to consist entirely of the 99%, then he could live with that. He could find a way to live with that.

Except Harvey does things that Mike doesn’t understand sometimes, things he doesn’t know how to classify. Like, he’ll bring dinner over to Mike’s place and they’ll work a little, but mostly they’ll watch a game on ESPN or a movie on TCM - Harvey never met a black and white movie he didn’t like. 

Or, like today, Harvey will get invited to a movie premiere by a friend - and Mike will never be over the fact that Harvey considers Robert Downey Jr. a close personal friend, never. He can almost feel the fanboy in him rearing up - and instead of Harvey taking any of the gorgeous women Mike has known to occupy Harvey’s arm for events like this, he’ll tell Mike he’s picking him up at 7.

Walking the red carpet is strange, not just because he’s bombarded by flashes everywhere and people who seem to know his name - and how do they know his name? But more importantly, why do they care? - but because Harvey is practically a hair’s breath away from him the whole time, his hand centered on Mike’s lower back.

If anything gave him hope for the 1%, it would be this, but he just can’t allow it of himself, not when Harvey is probably just being playful and friendly, familiar. Like on Thursday when they were watching the Giants game and he stole Mike’s beer and didn’t give it back.

Familiar. That’s all this is.

“Harvey! Harvey! No Amelia tonight?”

Harvey gives them a smile. “No Amelia. She’s moved on to better things. This is Mike.”

The photographers start calling his name. Mike smiles, holds it, lets his hand creep up to rest on Harvey’s back.

“Her permanent replacement.”

Mike’s heart stutters and he leans into Harvey, mouth to Harvey’s ear, and asks, heart in his throat, “Permanent replacement?”

Harvey hums, leans in to Mike, lets the grin form as his hand slides down, grips Mike’s hip. “I figured since you missed all the subtle hints I’ve been trying to give you, I might as well try something a little more obvious.”


	12. Chapter 12

Mike isn’t what Harvey expected.

That’s not entirely accurate, because Mike is, in a lot of ways, _exactly_ what Harvey expected. He’s almost unbearably smart, snarky, compassionate, and _broken_ , and Harvey could’ve told you all those things about him five seconds after a briefcase of pot sprung open and dumped all over Harvey’s shoes, he just didn’t expect Mike would be responsible for tilting his world on its axis. That’s the thing he didn’t see coming.

There wasn’t any one moment that did it, no one thing he could point to later to have it all make even an ounce more sense. Not that he was really expecting there to be. Life, as Harvey knows, is messy and complicated, and rarely turns out like movies would have you believe.

There were cleaner options in Harvey’s life he could have taken, people who were less complicated, relationships that didn’t have a self-destruct sequence pre-programmed in. But none of them took Harvey’s heart with them when they left the room, so as far as Harvey’s concerned, it was never really up for discussion.

Harvey likes to watch him sometimes, on nights like this, when he’s charming the room with his wit and his smile and his self-conscious swagger, something he adopted from Harvey but made his own. 

Mike’s head turns, eyes meet Harvey’s instantly and he smiles, small and sure, like he knew where Harvey was the entire time, knew Harvey couldn’t take his eyes off him. It’s unsettling, and reassuring, and Harvey doesn’t know how both could be true at the same time.

Maybe that’s just the way it is when your heart’s walking around outside your body.


	13. Chapter 13

Harvey finishes knotting his tie, pulls it snug against his throat, drops his hands when he feels a pair of hands slide into his pockets, feels his hips slot into the man’s behind him.

_“Mike.”_

“We have ten minutes.”

Mike’s fingers knead into Harvey’s thighs through the fabric of his pockets, his hips shift and roll. Harvey squeezes Mike’s hands, a gentle reprimand.

_“Behave.”_

Mike sighs into the back of Harvey’s neck and stills his movements and Harvey spins, hooks a finger in the waistband of his jeans, pops the button open with his thumb.

“Harvey-”

“ _You_ don’t have to be anywhere today.” Harvey leans forward, unzips the fly of Mike’s jeans and nips at his jaw. “And you _did_ say we had ten minutes.”


	14. Chapter 14

Harvey smiles the minute he opens the door and hears the loud, bubbly, _ecstatic_ little boy giggles coming from across the condo, setting his briefcase down on the nearest chair and unbuttoning his suit coat. He slips it off, laying it neatly over the back, and discards the mantel he’s worn all day for one that’s warmer, one that fits just the way he likes. _Lawyer_ for _family man_.

He walks through the condo, smells lasagna cooking in the oven, picks up a toy truck and tosses it in a basket along the wall with some of Emmett’s favorite toys, follows the sound of little boy laughter like a trail of breadcrumbs as he walks down the hallway.

Mike is kneeling in front of the bathtub with Emmett standing on Mike’s thighs, Mike’s arm wrapped around him to keep him from diving headlong into the bathtub after the six yellow ducklings that are paddling around, back and forth, diving under the water only to surface and do it all over again. Harvey leans into the doorway and watches Emmett squeal and slap at the water as he tries to grab a hold of a duckling with hands he hasn’t quite gotten the hang of yet. The ducks easily avoid him but he doesn’t seem to really care, his little giggles after one slips away from him lighting up his face. 

“ _Mike_.”

Mike turns his head, looks at him. “They’re Christine’s.”

“Christine?”

“2E. They’re for a school project. She’ll be back to get them in about an hour. I just couldn’t say no when she asked.”

Of course he couldn’t.

Mike laughs and tightens his arms when Emmett tries to slip the hold and jump into the tub, kissing the side of his head when he squeals again and bounces up and down on Mike’s lap.

Harvey walks across the bathroom, rolls up his sleeves, sits down on the closed lid of the toilet. He leans forward, brushes his hand over Emmett’s head, grins when one of the ducklings gets close enough to splash a happy, squealing Emmett in the face just the tiniest bit. It’s incredible, the amount of joy Harvey feels, watching Emmett figure out the world.

_He’s_ incredible.


	15. Chapter 15

“New suit?”

The words are innocuous, the tone is not, and Mike can feel it unfurling inside of him, stretching out, smugly making itself at home under his skin. He can’t do this.

He grips the edge of the table in front of him, drops his head to his chest.

He can’t.

Mike rolls his shoulders, grabs the folders off the table, and smooths his tie down as he turns and goes to walk by Harvey and out of the file room. Harvey leans in as he walks by, eyes intent as Mike tries to avoid eye contact, tries to avoid even the smallest touch.

He fails miserably.

“Stop.”

The word is little more than a pained sigh, but he knows Harvey hears it by the change in his expression, how quickly he goes from comfortably cocky to disarmingly confused.

“Mike-”

Mike turns, faces him. “Just…stop. Please.”

This isn’t the right time to be having this conversation, and it’s definitely not the right place, but Mike can’t keep going on like this, can’t keep playing along. It hurts too much. 

“Stop doing what?”

“ _This_. Stop pushing what I can’t have into my face. It’s cruel.”

Mike goes for the door and Harvey steps around him, shuts the door with one outstretched hand. Mike stares at the closed door, closes his eyes, deliberately _does not ask_ Harvey to move. 

“Who says you can’t have me?”

Mike looks at him. Does he really need to say it? Does he?

“Ask.”

“What?”

“ _Ask me_.” Harvey drops his hand, slips in the space between Mike and the door so that they’re chest to chest, Harvey’s back flat against the file room door. “The answer may surprise you.”


	16. Chapter 16

It’s the fifth time Mike’s worn one of his suits.

It doesn’t fit him quite right - the shoulders are too big, the shirt’s a little loose in the chest, the pants are the right length but just a hair too loose in the thigh - but it feels right anyway. Harvey likes Mike in his clothes, likes what it means. He likes that he can look at Mike walking by his office at 2 PM and be reminded of what they were doing at 2 AM, at the reason for Mike coming to work in a suit that fits him just the smallest bit wrong.

Except the reason Mike is wearing his suit this time has more to do with a CEO trying to cheat his employees and less to do with Mike naked.

Harvey stands in his office, watches Mike sleep a moment. They’ve been at this case for a week now, practically non-stop, and he knows Mike is basically running on fumes.

But he also knows they’re almost there, they’ve almost got what they need to nail Peterson to the wall, so he can’t let him sleep a minute longer, not when pushing through will mean a return to normalcy, a return to Mike exactly where Harvey likes him: naked and breathless and achingly responsive in his bed.

(Besides, Donna’s been staring at him, staring at Mike, staring at _them_ for the last minute or so, looking a little more interested in the proceedings than Harvey is strictly comfortable with. It isn’t that he thinks Donna doesn’t know - he suspects she does - just that he doesn’t need to give her any more information about something that’s his and Mike’s alone.)

Which is the reason Harvey decides to shock Mike awake with a file dropped in his lap. A little childish perhaps, but effective. 

“Shit! _Harvey_!”

He’ll make it up to him later. _If_ he’s a good boy.


	17. Chapter 17

“Fresno State Fun Run?”

“Shut up.”

“Was it fun to run?”

Harvey glares at him, refuses to dignify that with a response, pulls his coat off and drops it onto a neighboring chair.

Mike leans back in his, stretches his legs out under the table. “What are you doing here, Harvey?”

“I thought you could use the help.”

Mike twists his wrist, looks down at his watch and discovers that, no, he’s not going insane. It _is_ going on midnight and Harvey _is_ standing in front of him in his civvies, offering his help. “Have I entered the Twilight Zone?”

Harvey rolls his eyes. “Do you want the help or not?”

“Yes, I want the help.”

Mike slides a stack of files over and Harvey steals a yellow highlighter from the pile in front of Mike, leans back in his chair and gets to work without another word. And it’s just…easy. Easy in a way nothing is these days. Easy in a way he’s always yearned for, but never really gotten.

Sometimes, when he was lying on the floor of his apartment with Trevor, flush with pizza and pot and the heady feeling of being young and free in the City That Never Sleeps, he’d convince himself that what he was feeling was ease. 

He was wrong and he knows that now, but he also knows that wasn’t something he was going to understand until he stopped drifting and started doing, until he finally owned what he wanted. Mike doesn’t believe in fate, but he also doesn’t think it’s a mistake that when he finally took ownership of his life, that’s when Harvey walked in.

Grammy always said there were people who were meant to come into Mike’s life, people he was supposed to know. She was never Trevor’s biggest fan, but that didn’t stop her from admitting that Mike was supposed to know him. He didn’t get it then, but he gets it now. If he hadn’t known Trevor, he wouldn’t appreciate Harvey. And knowing Harvey has brought him the first real ease he’s ever felt, like finally coming up for air after years spent underwater.

Like coming home to sleep in his own bed after months on the road.

He worries sometimes that he’ll screw it up, that what he has with Harvey won’t last, that he’ll look up one day and Harvey will be gone. That the only person Mike has left in his life that he loves will be gone, and there won’t be anything he could do to get him back. He lived through losing Grammy, but he’s not sure he could live through losing Harvey too.

Mike looks up when the toes of a socked foot hook around his ankle and give it a gentle nudge to see Harvey looking at him with soft eyes, yellow highlighter paused over his paper in wait.

Mike leans into Harvey’s touch, lets it comfort him, feels something dark and overwhelming loosen inside of him.

And he starts to breathe.

Exactly like coming home.


	18. Chapter 18

“Harvey. Thanks for bringing the contracts over.”

Harvey takes the CEO’s hand, gives it a firm shake. “John.”

“Bit surprised to see you. I thought you were going to send them over with your new associate. Rick? Was that it?”

He nods. “He’s been grounded, all privileges revoked, including field trips, until he learns to turn his homework in on time.”

John gives him a wry smile, eyes twinkling, as they both shift to get out of a way of a group of women, walking down the hallway swiftly, talking excitedly. They’re followed by a group of men, just as excited and walking just as fast, and Harvey turns to look at John.

“Holding a convention today? From what I remember, it’s usually not this crowded on this floor.”

John gestures with an open hand for Harvey to walk and Harvey nods, walks alongside John as they move down the hallway, toward his office. “We’re shooting our new menswear line today, and we opted for a different model this time. He seems to be incredibly popular with the ladies…and the gentlemen, for that matter.”

They turn the corner, come upon an open doorway stuffed with people, some of them attempting to crane their necks to see into the room better, some of them clearly hoping the person in front of them will somehow magically shrink a few inches in the next few seconds, tilting their heads back and rising up on their toes in their efforts to see.

“I see what you mean.”

John clears his throat and the people in front of them startle and scatter guiltily, streaming out of the doorway and down the hallway, back toward their desks and cubicles. Harvey can now see the man posing in front of the camera in the middle of the room, watches as he sweeps his coat back and subtly swivels his hips for the photographer in a pair of eggplant pants that look made for him.

“His name is Mike.”

Harvey breaks his gaze to look over at John, standing in front of a computer monitor, scrolling through the hundreds of images, already taken. John gives him a knowing smile and Harvey walks over to look at the monitor over his shoulder, at images of Mike in a polka dotted skinny tie, in a gray, monochromatic suit with a pocket square and no tie, in those gorgeous eggplant pants that Harvey would love to peel off of him.

“I think you’ll like the last look.”

Harvey lifts an eyebrow at John but laughs softly to himself when Mike appears in front of the camera again, this time in a three piece suit and checked shirt, fedora playfully canted over his head. Harvey slips his hands into his pockets, watches Mike work for the photographer, wonders if he’d look just as delicious stripped down, in Harvey’s lap, fedora tilted just so.

“You always did have a thing for vests.”

Harvey hums, catches Mike’s eye and holds it, smirks when he sees the corners of Mike’s lips lift ever so slightly. An invitation, and a promise.

“Just make sure the clothes come back in one piece.”


	19. Chapter 19

Mike’s never been the overly careful sort. He doesn’t check and re-check his locks when he leaves the house, doesn’t leave extra early for an appointment, doesn’t slide his hand into his pocket to make sure his keys are right where they’re supposed to be. 

Of course, he’s never carried around something this precious, this valuable, before.

Three Weeks: that’s how long he’s been carrying this ring around, waiting for just the right time, and Too Many to Count: that’s how many times he’s patted his pocket with a nervous hand, reassuring himself that yes, it’s still there.

It should’ve been out of his pocket and on Harvey’s finger ages ago, but he could never seem to find just the right time, and this is not the sort of thing you ask one day because you think it might be a neat thing to try. Not when the man you’re asking is beautiful and magnetic and frustrating and absolutely everything to you.

In Mike’s defense, he has tried. He’s made plans - _so many plans_ \- but they always seem to get shoved aside for work and then before he knows it the moment’s gone, the words stuck in his throat, the ring once again burning a hole in his pocket.

He had a dinner planned this evening, something intimate and theirs, and then Jessica called. Saying no to her is only something you do if you aren’t fond of retaining possession of your balls, so that was out the window. One more reservation cancelled, one more potential proposal derailed.

Mike sidles up to Harvey, hands him a glass of champagne, subtly pats the breast of his tuxedo jacket one more time.

Yep. Still there.

“Another thirty minutes and we can go.”

Mike sighs in relief. “Thank god.”

Harvey laughs softly, takes a sip of his champagne, slips a hand into his pocket as he watches Jessica entertain a client on the other side of the room. “I’ll make us a late dinner. That bolognese you like. We’ll get out of our tuxes, put on a movie.”

Mike hums in appreciation. Sounds perfect. Sounds exactly like what he needs.

“And you can finally ask me that question you’ve been holding in for three weeks.”


	20. Chapter 20

Mike didn’t expect everything to make the move. Harvey’s condo already had plenty of bookshelves, and he was less than sad to say goodbye to his lumpy, ten-year old bed and a couch he and Trevor had once picked up off the sidewalk.

(Mike _is_ a little sad to leave the bed behind, actually, if only for the very obvious Harvey memories it holds.)

All told, it took Mike and Harvey just under a few hours to pack up everything that Mike was actually keeping, into a grand total of 7 boxes and a couple of suitcases. 

It’s vaguely depressing to think about, that his life could be so easily packed up and moved with so little fuss, but his Brooklyn apartment always felt impermanent, like he was biding his time, waiting for forever to come along. Or like it belonged to another life, one that that was never really meant to be his. And if he thinks about it, his life will never be so easy to move again, not now that he’s no longer Just Mike, not now that he’ll never be Just Mike again.

Mike opens the last box, puts his books on the shelf, puts his DVDs in the cabinet, mixes his things in with Harvey’s. He wonders how long it will take before he forgets which things were once Just His.

Mike reaches the end of the box, confused. There was one more thing - one precious thing - that Mike wanted to find a special place for, but he’s at the bottom of the box and it’s not there. He pulls at the other boxes, looks inside them, but they’re all empty.

“Harvey…are there any other boxes?”

Harvey walks out of the kitchen, stops behind the couch. “Just those. Why?”

“The pictures of Grammy that were on the pillar next to the kitchen. I can’t find them. They’re not in the boxes.”

They shouldn’t matter so much, maybe, one photobooth strip and one Instagram of Grammy, not when he has an album full of her sitting on the shelf in front of him, nestled in its new home right next to Harvey’s childhood album, full of pictures of his brother and his dad. But they’re the last pictures he has of her, and he just can’t stand the idea that they might be gone.

Mike collapses on the couch, drops his head against the back, closes his eyes when he feels Harvey run a hand over his head. Harvey’s hand slides down his neck, comes to rest with an open palm over Mike’s chest and Mike opens his eyes, looks up at him.

And at the frame Harvey’s holding in his left hand.

Harvey holds it out for him to take, leans over the back of the couch, wraps his arms around him as Mike holds the frame in both hands, looks down at the pictures of Grammy.

Harvey nudges Mike’s temple with his nose, kisses him. “I thought she deserved better than scotch tape.”

“Thank you.”


	21. Chapter 21

There’s no way to escape it this time. 

Harvey never thought they’d run out of chances. Mike is so good, so damn _remarkable_ , he never worried about it, not really. Not even when it seemed like the entire world was a half second away from discovering their secret and Harvey was close to losing everything he’d worked so hard for.

He knows how truly foolish it was, now, in a way he couldn’t have known then, not without the benefit of living with the secret, letting it drive nearly everything he did. He’d never have done it for anyone else, he knows that too, but even knowing what he knows now, what he and Mike have been through just to hold on, even knowing how poorly thought out it was, how reckless, he knows he’d still do it for Mike all over again.

It was a watershed moment for Harvey when he realized that, when he was finally able to put a name on just what Mike meant to him. On just what he was willing to do for him.

Like say goodbye to the person who taught him everything.

“Harvey.”

“Jessica.”

She looks up at him slowly, lips thinning, holding the paper in two fingers, like it’s personally offended her. “What’s this?”

“I told you once I wouldn’t stay without Mike. I meant it.”

Jessica turns away from him in her desk chair, allows the paper to fall out of her hand and onto her desk as she lays her left forearm down and looks out her office windows, at the darkening Manhattan sky. “Goddamn Mike Ross.”

Harvey smiles softly to himself, slips his hands into his pockets.

Goddamn Mike Ross.


	22. Chapter 22

He came back to work too soon.

Harvey knew that, but allowed it anyway. Denying Mike anything he wanted after the accident just became something he couldn’t do. 

But Harvey struggles with that decision sometimes, especially on days like this, when Mike’s new limitations remind both of them that even if they tried to ignore it, claim it didn’t matter, that Mike is not the same man he used to be.

Harvey slips into the file room, skirts around the shelving, comes up right in front of Mike. He doesn’t come up behind him anymore, not without warning. He does stand off to the sidelines more, spends more time watching the way other people act around Mike, watches for the things Mike will miss now that he can’t hear them. If other people see him and think he’s being needlessly overprotective, well…Harvey could really give a shit.

They didn’t spend two weeks at Mike’s bedside, waiting for him to wake up. They didn’t see Mike’s stricken face when he woke up and realized he couldn’t hear anymore, that he never would again.

Mike lifts his head when he sees him, lets the weariness show, doesn’t even try to smile. Harvey tilts his head, curls the fingers slightly on his right hand, sweeps his hand, fingers in, from his throat to his stomach.

_Hungry?_

Mike nods gratefully, stumbles forward, lets Harvey lead him out of the file room.

They pick up Italian on the way home and Harvey helps strip Mike of his suit and somewhere in the eighth inning, with the Yankees down by two runs, Mike falls asleep with his head in Harvey’s lap, Harvey’s fingers gently running through his hair.

It was a special kind of panic Harvey felt when he got the call from the hospital, something ice cold and sharp that nearly overwhelmed him. That Mike was important to him was something he already knew, something anyone with half a brain could figure out. That Mike was _his_ became obvious when he discovered he couldn’t bear to leave his bedside for even half a moment, that he tracked every movement of Mike’s fingers or toes, that Harvey didn’t even blink when the doctor asked if he was family and he said yes, daring the doctor to tell him he wasn’t.

Harvey lifts his hand from Mike’s hair, settles it on his chest instead. Watches his hand as it moves gently, up and down, feels something settle inside of him. He’ll wake Mike up later, nudge him into bed after the game is over and he’s cleaned up the leftovers, shut the lights off.

But for now it’s enough to watch his hand rise and fall.


	23. Chapter 23

Mike is lonely.

In a city so alive, so full, it seems like such a stupid thing to say. But with Grammy gone forever and Trevor being _Trevor_ , that’s exactly what Mike is. Lonely. The number of people who matter to him, the number of people he’d do anything for, is down to one. That’s it.

Maybe that’s why he finds himself knocking on Harvey’s door just past midnight, ignoring the prickly thought lurking in the back of his mind that Harvey might not feel the same way, ignores it because his day has been long and his week has been tiresome and he’s just so damn _lonely_ and he needs comfort, and Harvey is the only one who can give it to him.

Mike, admittedly, expects a lot from Harvey, but he doesn’t expect that. Even if it’s the way Mike feels, he could never expect that of Harvey. And it would be foolish to let himself try, to start seeing things that aren’t there, just because he wants to. It’s too dangerous a trap to fall into, and Mike needs Harvey too much to let that happen.

Because it isn’t just that Mike’s lonely. It’s that he’s lonely and the one person who can cure that is the only person he wants but can never have.

Harvey’s a little annoyed to be interrupted this late, Mike can tell, but he steps aside almost immediately, lets Mike into the condo, doesn’t say anything. Mike yanks off his suit coat, collapses on the sofa, toes off his shoes, tries to sink into the back, tries to hide from the day. He can feel Harvey watching him from across the condo but he closes his eyes and keeps them that way. Better to not tempt himself with Harvey, dressed down and drowsy, ready for bed. It’s a good look, but it’s also torture for Mike.

The couch is enough. Just being here is enough.

Mike’s eyes flutter open when he feels Harvey’s hands on him, lifting him off the couch, un-knotting his tie, unbuttoning his white oxford shirt. Harvey’s hands still, and he says, “I can stop. Tell me to stop.”

Mike’s hands clutch at Harvey’s shirt. “No.”

Harvey searches his face a moment then nods, strips Mike of his clothes, leads him into the bedroom. He nudges Mike onto the bed and pulls off his own clothes and Mike lays back on the bed when Harvey kneels in between Mike’s spread legs, leans forward and wraps his arms around him, bringing their bodies flush together.

And Mike stops thinking.

It’s slow and soft and a little torturous, and Mike feels the day wash away from him, all the loneliness and frustration and anxiety disappearing as Harvey’s hips nudge against his, as Mike feels his breath quicken and his arms tighten around Harvey in response, as he lets his body take over. It’s perfect and beautiful and everything he wants and he can’t believe he has it at all, can’t believe this is possible.

Mike slips out the next morning before the sun has peeked through the buildings and Harvey has woken up, pulls himself away from the warmth of Harvey’s bed and the grounding calm of Harvey’s arms. And when he gets into work, Harvey doesn’t even let on that the night before happened, that Mike was willing and pliant in his arms, that he knows what it sounds like when Mike moans out his name. 

Which is maybe why it’s so shocking when Mike answers his door late that night and finds Harvey standing on the other side, tie loose, coat unbuttoned, a bag of takeout in his hand.

“Harvey?”

Harvey hands him the paper bag, pulls off his suit coat, drapes it over the back of the sofa like it’s where he puts it every night, rolls the sleeves up on his shirt, kicks off his shoes and nudges them to lie next to Mike’s, like it’s where they belong. “I figured if I came to you, you couldn’t slip out in the morning.”

Mike reaches behind himself to shut the door, clutches the brown paper bag to his chest.

They eat, they watch the rest of the game and then Harvey takes him to bed and takes him apart, holds him tight as he falls over the edge. And when he wakes up the next morning, calm and settled, his feet are tangled with Harvey’s, and his head is on Harvey’s chest, and the loneliness is gone, replaced with warmth and _Harvey_.

Mike shifts, goes to move, is immediately pulled backed down, Harvey’s arms tightening around him, practically locking him into place.

“If I wanted you to move, you’d know it."


	24. Chapter 24

Harvey is not jealous. Harvey does not do jealous.

He’s concerned.

Part of the trouble with Mike is that his best qualities also happen to be the most exploitable, like his kindness, his sincerity, his trust, his willingness to do anything for those that matter to him. And it would be nothing for Robert Zane to use Mike’s naive affection for Rachel to his advantage.

Mike thinks he knows what he wants, he thinks that Rachel is some paragon. He’s wrong, but Harvey can excuse him that because he’s young and has tricked himself into thinking his awe of her impressive beauty is something like love. Mike needs love and affection, craves it, so he’ll take it wherever he thinks he can get it, even if it’s imagined, even if it’s from someone who turns hot and cold on a dime, someone who gets angry when he doesn’t match up to her exacting standards, forget that she doesn’t match her own.

Donna isn’t the only one who sees all.

Mike needs more than a Rachel Zane, deserves more. But he’s convinced himself that most people don’t stick around for him, that the people who do are the only ones who love him, even if they’re shitty at it and expect Mike to bend to meet them, even if they twist him up in knots expecting everything and giving little back.

It stops now. No matter what Harvey has to do, it stops now.

Harvey’s been kinder to her than he should have been, has indulged her long enough. He gave her a chance to take care of him, gave her a chance to prove she could love him, protect him. She failed. So the gloves are off. Harvey’s entered the ring. And he can guarantee Rachel’s never had an opponent like him before.

Mike’s about to find out what it’s like to really be loved, to really be valued.

And Rachel Zane’s about to find out what it’s like to really lose.


	25. Chapter 25

It’s missing. It _can’t_ be missing.

“Donna!”

It’s a credit to her that she knows his tone, knows that now is not the time to meander or be playful, because she comes rushing into the office, stops next to him and asks, “What?”

He looks pointedly at the shelf, at the empty space, and she looks, the shock immediately crossing her face.

“It’s missing.”

“ _Obviously_. Where is it?”

“Harvey, you _know_ I’d never touch that record. I know what it means to you.”

An extremely rare recording of his dad backing up Ray Charles, it was what Gordon always called his best performance. It used to be Gordon’s copy, with a message from Ray thanking him. And it had his dad’s voice, clear as anything, laughing with Ray at the end.

And it was gone.

“I didn’t think either of you would be in this early.” Harvey turns, looks at Mike, standing sheepish in the doorway. “Especially not you, Harvey, not today.”

Donna looks between them, gives Harvey’s arm a squeeze before she walks by Mike and out of the office, giving him a twin squeeze on the arm and a small smile as she passes, closing the door behind her.

“It wasn’t yours to take.”

“I know, I’m sorry. But…here.”

Mike holds out a large package to Harvey, wrapped in silver paper, no bow. Harvey eyes it, slips a hand inside the fold to rip the paper open and exposes the missing record, framed beautifully, Ray’s autograph visible.

“Mike-”

“And here.”

He hands over another wrapped package, much smaller, wrapped in the same paper, fidgets while Harvey opens it.

The thing about this record isn’t just that it was his dad’s, or that it has Ray’s autograph, it’s that Harvey’s never been able to find another copy, no matter how hard he looked. Gordon’s copy is old, practically worn out from all the times Harvey’s played it, and Harvey has had to parcel it out these days, allowed himself to play it only when he needs it the most, when he needs to hear his dad one more time and feel like, for a moment, he’s still alive.

And now he’s holding another copy of that record in his hands.

He looks up at Mike, sharply. Mike shakes his head as he speaks, like the information doesn’t matter, like it’s inconsequential, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I have this buddy…he can find anything. It took him forever, but…I meant to just slip it in when you weren’t here. I didn’t want you to think it was missing or anything. I’m sorry. I just…I wanted to do something for you.”

Harvey sets the framed record gently on the ground, leans it against the shelf, and slips the other into the shelf, right where it belongs, before he walks across the office and pushes the button on the intercom. “Donna…Mike and I will be leaving for the day.”

“We will?”

Harvey lifts his finger off the intercom button, faces Mike.

“There’s someone I want you to meet.”


	26. Chapter 26

Mike is easily the best - and worst - decision Harvey’s ever made.

(Which, considering Harvey’s track record, says something.)

Still, if he had the chance, he knows he’d go back and make the same decision all over again.

(Which, again, says something.)

Something drew him to Mike from the beginning, something emotional and deeply seated, something Harvey tried, and failed, to ignore. It’s still there, always there, simmering away under the surface, taunting Harvey for ignoring it, bubbling up whenever a crack appears in Harvey’s carefully crafted facade, brazenly exposing itself to Mike whenever Harvey loses the slightest amount of control.

It would be easier if Harvey could compartmentalize Mike, easier if he could stuff him in a neat little box like he has everyone else who actually matters. Jessica: mentor/boss. Donna: longtime friend/just as longtime secretary. Louis: sometime friend/longtime competitor.

But Mike is not just his associate, has never been just his associate, and any efforts to force him into that tiny, rigid box have been met with gleeful opposition by his own actions.

Harvey does not, as a general rule, face down drug dealers just because he hired an associate with a shitty friend. His skin is more valuable than that.

But Mike is far more valuable than his own skin.

But just because Harvey understands his situation, just because he’s finally (mostly) learned to own it, that doesn’t mean it changes anything. What it does mean is Harvey is forced to watch as Mike makes terrible choice after terrible choice, hoping that his efforts to steer him in the right direction have some effect.

Harvey remembers clearly the night his mother walked out, the way his dad sat on the couch in their living room and stared at the blank wall and didn’t say anything, remembers his shock when his dad told him he’d known all along but hadn’t confronted her. He sat in the dark with him, angry and protective and confused, and listened to his father say, at the time, what he believed to be a rationalization.

_Love is not a painless endeavor._

And then Mike came along. And Harvey learned to accept a certain amount of pain, a certain level of unfulfilled want. Got used to watching Mike pick every wrong person under the sun to be with, snarky comment at the ready. Accepted his feelings as something to hold onto but not project, to use in specific situations, when his care and concern could come off as self-serving and work related.

But he’s done with that.

He’s over pretending Mike doesn’t matter, and he’s over letting others have what he wants.

He slips into the file room unnoticed, lets himself watch as Mike strips off his t-shirt, picks up the spare suit Harvey bought for him ages ago after he wore Harvey’s and Harvey spent the rest of the day at the office half hard and realized that would never do, that the only solution was to never allow Mike to wear his clothes in public again.

“Harvey?” Mike checks his watch. “You’re here early. I went through-”

“I’m not here about work.”

Mike furrows his eyebrows, makes a comical show of looking around the file room slowly, like Harvey is so dim-witted he didn’t notice he was standing in the file room at Pearson Hardman. 

“I’m here about us.”


	27. Chapter 27

“Mike.”

He doesn’t respond, keeps staring out the window with the same expression he’s had for the better part of the week, when they both suddenly realized all their efforts were fruitless, that there was nothing they could do to stop the oncoming storm.

Mike is wearing one of Harvey’s shirts, one of his ties, and any other day Harvey would be happy to see the skinny tie gone, but today it just screams of desperation. Like Mike cloaking himself in Harvey’s armor will buffer him against the shitstorm they’re about to face.

Harvey supposes it was bound to get out, eventually, he just never thought it would catch fire the way it did. Or maybe he never thought it would get out, and he figured he’d have all the time in the world to work with Mike, to do amazing things. To turn cases on their heads and show the legal world just what they were capable of. He can’t decide which is more true.

But it feels cruel, losing Mike like this, and he thinks that’s the truest thing he knows.

Which is, he imagines, the reason he’s about to walk into the room behind them and perjure himself for the first time in his life.

It’s just, the idea of a life without Mike in it every day feels incomprehensible to him, feels wrong. And he thinks maybe there’s something to the idea that there’s someone for everyone, someone you’d do anything for, someone whose pain you’d erase without a moment’s thought for your own skin. He never imagined it would be Mike, but Harvey’s been known to get things wrong every once in a while. And if saving him, if saving them, means a lie, Harvey will tell it every day, under oath, for the rest of his life.


	28. Chapter 28

Mike looks down at his watch, swears under his breath, scrubs at his eyes roughly and looks back at the computer screen in front of him, typing furiously. Harvey should be here any minute and Mike isn’t even close to being done with this brief and shit.

_Shit, shit, shit_.

“Mike?”

Mike keeps his eyes on the screen, types even faster if possible. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but whatever it is, I don’t have the time right now. I had to finish this brief for Harvey, like, an hour ago.”

He licks his lips, makes a quick correction, and keeps typing.

“It’s about Harvey.”

He turns to look at her and the look on her face makes him immediately uneasy. He pulls his hands from the keyboard, says, “What about Harvey?”

“Donna called.” She hesitates a moment, her eyes wide and shiny, reaching out to him. “There was an accident.”

Mike stares at her, can barely make his mouth form even one word. “ _What_?”

“Harvey was in a car accident, Mike.”

Mike bolts up and out of his chair and goes running down the hallway, barely even registers Rachel’s shouted words of comfort behind him, has just enough sense left to take in the name of the hospital.

Mike isn’t sure how he gets there, he has no idea how long it takes, but he can feel the panic reaching inside him, gripping him tight like a vise, and no matter how hard he tries to breath, to relieve the pressure, all he can feel is it growing stronger, building faster, threatening to pull him under.

He sees Jessica in the hallway and runs toward her and she holds out a hand to stop him, grips his arm, but he doesn’t stop, he can’t stop, he won’t, and as he fights to get his arm free, she gets a look of understanding on her face and says, “Room five thirty-six. The impact was on his side of the car.”

He pulls his arm free and runs down the hall and and toward Harvey’s room before he can hear what else she has to say, before he can hear her tell him he’s losing someone else he loves. _There isn’t anyone else left_ , doesn’t she get that? Doesn’t everyone? _There isn’t anyone else left_ but Harvey. He’s all Mike has.

He stops in front of the door and yanks it open, and the vise gets harder and stronger and so much more painful, and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t _breathe_.

He drops his head to his chest and gasps for air, but his body won’t take the oxygen in. He can’t bear to look into the room, even as he stands in the open doorway, and his hand grips the handle as he feels tears start to fall.

He can’t _breathe_.

He hears Donna’s whispered, “Mike,” but he turns away from her when she tries to take his hand, tries to offer comfort.

_“Mike.”_

Mike’s eyes jolt open and the noise that comes out of his throat is high, pained, as he looks across the room and sees Harvey sitting on the bed, alive and okay and looking at him like he’s so glad to see him and he’s sorry and Mike dives across the room toward him, falls into the chair by the side of the bed, drops his head to the bed.

He presses his head as close as he can to Harvey’s thigh, presses his face into the sheets and lets the tears fall, gasps for air, feels the panic like a living thing. Harvey presses his hand to the back of Mike’s neck, whispers nonsense words to him, shushes and comforts him, tells him he’s okay, he’s here, he’s fine, Mike’s okay, they’re both okay.

Mike leans into the touch, feels the vise begin to loosen, leans into Harvey’s touch, barely registers Donna and Jessica in the room with them.

“Harvey?”

“His parents died in a car accident.”

Mike gasps, scrunches his eyes, and Harvey squeezes the back of his neck, brings up the other hand to run through his hair. 

“Shh, you’re okay. I’m okay. We’re okay.”


	29. Chapter 29

Harvey walks down the stairs with a sigh.

Another night spent kissing asses and feigning interest, another night spent solo as Jessica’s charming right hand, tactfully drumming up clients. How boring.

Harvey begins to make his rounds on the bottom floor, kissing Elise Stone on the cheek, asking after her father, her kids, smiles like a good little closer and keeps his eye roll in check when she goes into more detail than necessary and tells him all about how little Jordan is destined to be the next Tiger Woods. (If by some rare chance - Harvey would guess not - she actually means cheating on his wife with their nanny, just like Mr. Stone, then she’s probably on the right track.)

Still, it’ll be worth it tomorrow when Elise calls Jessica and tells her how charming he was, what a good listener he is, and isn’t it interesting, but our company’s been looking to switch firms for a while now.

Nevertheless, boring.

Harvey weaves his way through the crowd, waves off a waiter with a tray of food with a shake of the head. If only-

Well, now. _That’s_ interesting. And he’d seemed so firm when he rejected Harvey’s invitation yesterday.

Harvey watches as he walks in, adjusting his cuff links nervously, eyes shifting around the room like he just needs one reason to bolt and he’ll take it. Scrap the whole thing, and pretend he was never there.

His face seems to settle a little as he locks eyes on Harvey and he takes a deep breath, smiles a little, holds his hand out to the side, almost a surrender. Like he had no choice in saying yes. He’s more right about that than he knows.

“Mike. I’m glad you came.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah, uh…it’s a little hard to say no to a guy who sends a perfectly fitted, custom tux to your apartment. I’m afraid to ask how you knew my measurements.”

Harvey gives his body a long, slow look and looks up at Mike, the edges of his mouth just beginning to turn up into a smile. “I’ve always been good at guessing.”

“You know, there are easier, less expensive ways to ask a guy out.”

“I tried easy, you said no.” Mike bows his head, looks away. “That’s alright. I’ve never been afraid of a little hard work. Especially not if it’ll get me what I want.”

Mike looks at him, swallows. “Well, I’m here, so…looks like your hard work paid off.”

Harvey steps slowly toward him, erases all space between them. “Oh, I’m not even close to being done. I’m going to win you over and over and over again, until you wonder why you ever said no in the first place.”

Mike licks his lips, sucks in a breath. “And what if I tell you no, over and over and over again?”

“Oh…you’ll say yes.”

“How do you know that?”

Harvey grins. “Because I’m a closer, Mike. It’s what I do.”


	30. Chapter 30

Mike nods when Jessica tells them she’ll be right back, watches as she walks out of the room with purpose. He turns to look at Harvey, but Harvey is resolutely _not_ looking at Mike, arms braced on the table behind him as he stares out of the room, through the glass walls.

Mike stares at him, wills Harvey to actually acknowledge him, to meet his eyes just once, but he won’t.

“You won’t even look at me. Alright. Fine.” Harvey’s eyes slip, shift in his general direction without meeting Mike’s eyes, then shift back to look again through the glass, the expression on his face unwavering. And Mike’s just had _**enough**_. “No, you know what? It’s not fine. It’s not fine at all.”

He strides across the room and steps right in front of Harvey, forces him to face him. If he doesn’t want to look at him, fine. That’s his prerogative. But he needs to get this out.

“I get that you’re pissed off at me and I’m sorry if you think I betrayed you, but I didn’t. What I did, I did to save you. You were so focused on getting your name on the door you didn’t think twice about what you had to do to get it. Your _career_ was in jeopardy.”

Harvey looks up at him.

“Your _career_ , Harvey. Everything you’ve worked so hard for. And I couldn’t stand back and watch you do that to yourself, not if there was something I could do. You’ve stepped in to save my ass so many times, all I wanted to do was repay the favor.”

Harvey’s eyes bore into Mike’s.

Mike sighs, deflates. “You’ve given me everything, Harvey. Do you really think I’d betray you?”

Mike’s eyes plead for Harvey’s understanding, but Harvey’s remain unchanged, sharp and searching. He knows this is shitty, he knows this is a giant mess, but Mike just wants things back the way they were. He just wants _Harvey_ back. And he doesn’t know how to make that happen.

“You wouldn’t be the first. But you’d be the most disappointing.”

Mike opens his mouth to respond when he’s cut off.

“Gentlemen, are we ready?”

Harvey brushes past him, walks out of the room. 

“We’re not done, Harvey.”

Harvey turns, slips his hands into his pockets.

“No. We’re not.”


	31. Chapter 31

Mike flips through the papers in the file in his hands as he walks through Harvey’s open doorway and into his office. “Harvey, do you have the-”

He stops, pauses, looks back and forth between the two people seated in front of him. “Grammy? What are you doing here?”

“Michael, is that any way to say hello to your grandmother?”

He shuts his eyes briefly, makes a vague gesture of apology, flips the file shut and walks toward her. “No, sorry. I’m happy to see you, I’m just surprised.”

“I invited her.”

“He even sent a car.” She looks at Harvey, gives him a knowing smile. “He knows just how to butter up a lady.”

He smiles back, warm and charming. “I wasn’t about to invite you out to lunch and have you take a cab. Or the subway.”

“You’re taking her out to lunch?”

Harvey nods and Mike just stares at him.

_What?_

“Michael, close your mouth. You’ll catch flies.”

Mike’s snaps his mouth shut and watches as Grammy puts her hand over Harvey’s, as Harvey covers her hand with his other. “You’ll think about what I said?”

He smiles at her, squeezes her hand. “I’ll take it to heart.”

It’s like Mike’s entered some strange, alternate universe. If Donna suddenly proclaims her undying love for Louis, he’ll know something’s really off.

“Mike? _Mike_!”

Mike shakes his head, looks at Grammy and Harvey who are now standing in front of him, looking at him expectantly.

“What?”

“Has he always been this bad?”

“You should have seen him in the eighth grade. Voice cracking, hormones flying everywhere, it was a mess.”

_Oh my god._

“I don’t think I like the two of you together.”

Grammy steps, forward, pats him on the arm. “Well, tough luck, kid. Suck it up.”

She steps out of the office to talk to Donna and Harvey grins at him, his hands in his pockets. “I like her.”

“Of course you do. Harvey, what is this about?”

“I have to have a motive?”

“You’re you.”

Harvey tilts his head. “She’s your grandmother, Mike. She’s important to you. And I know you haven’t seen her in two months.”

Mike sighs. “Yeah, I’ve been meaning to apologize for that.”

“She understands.” Mike looks through the glass at Grammy, looking at something on Donna’s phone. An embarrassing photo of Mike, no doubt. “And she seemed mollified when I told her we’d be visiting her much more often in the future.”

Mike nods, absently, smiles as Grammy and Donna laugh.

Wait, what? Back it up… _we_?

Mike sputters, tries to come up with something to say to that as the smile on Harvey’s face grows and he walks out of the office.

“Mike, get out here.”

Mike walks out of the office and Donna holds up her phone, gestures for him and Grammy to stand together. They smile for Donna as she takes their picture, and then she flips it around to show Grammy as Mike looks over at Harvey, watching him, a small smile on his face.

“We?”

_“We.”_


	32. Chapter 32

A knock sounds on the front door and Mike hops up from the couch, says, “Harvey, did you forget your-”

He stops, stares.

“Not Harvey.”

“ _Not_ Harvey.”

She smiles, sweet and kind and bright, and all he can think to say is, “Hi.”

She laughs softly, mercifully. “Hi.”

“To be honest, I thought you’d never want to see me again.”

“To be honest?” She wrinkles her nose, looks down briefly. “I thought I’d never want to see you again either.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She smiles, nods. “I know. I forgive you.”

Mike gestures into his apartment. “You want to come in?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

She steps into the apartment, takes her time before she sits down on the sofa, her eyes flitting over everything. “It looks different.”

“Is that bad?”

She shakes her head. “No. Still looks like you.”

“You want something to drink? I have water…or beer…or….yeah, that’s pretty much it.”

She laughs. “Water’s fine.”

Mike steps over to the kitchen and pulls a glass off the shelf above and is just starting to fill it when the front door opens, and Harvey walks in. 

“The market near your place has a pathetic cheese selection.”

When he spots Jenny he pauses, lifts an eyebrow. 

She goes to stand. “I should go, I’m interrupting.”

Mike opens his mouth but it’s Harvey who speaks first, who says, “No. Stay, please. I’m making dinner.”

She looks over at Mike and he nods, walks over and hands her the glass of water, sits on the coffee table in front of her. They catch up and laugh and it’s nice, really. Harvey inserts himself into their conversation and at one point he and Jenny gang up on Mike, and Mike hadn’t known he was missing this, not until it was right in front of him again.

“I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Harvey calls them to dinner and they sit, cramped around Mike’s tiny table, Mike on the end, in between Jenny and Harvey, and they eat and talk and laugh. Harvey’s impressed when Jenny keeps up as movie lines fly back and forth, and when it gets late, and she gets up to leave, she gives Mike a hug, kisses him on the cheek, and whispers in his ear before she walks out the front door with a smile.

Harvey picks up the plates off the table, comes up behind Mike, asks, “What did she say to you?”

“She said if we ever wanted to have kids, she’d love to help us out.”


	33. Chapter 33

When Mike doesn’t show up in Harvey’s office at nine o'clock like he should, Harvey goes looking for him.

Actually, Harvey doesn’t so much “go looking” as head directly for where Harvey knows he’ll be: Rachel Zane’s office.

He slips in the doorway, meets Rachel’s eye, and watches as she shifts uncomfortably, stops talking, and steps back from Mike. Watches as she removes her hand from his arm, like she knows she’s been caught. Mike reacts to her sudden change in mood by following her eyes to the doorway, granting Harvey a small, grateful smile when he sees him standing there. Judging from that alone, and the change in Mike’s body language from uncomfortable to professional, Harvey has interrupted what he can only consider to be an extremely awkward conversation. On Mike’s end, at least. 

He knows exactly what it was on Rachel’s end.

Mike tells her he’ll see her later, thanks her for the help, and she barely gets the nod out before Mike is slipping past Harvey, out her door and walking down the hallway toward Harvey’s office.

Mike will wait for him there, and as soon as Harvey walks in he’ll be a flutter of apologies and explanations, spilling out of his mouth one after the other. As if there’s anything for him to apologize for.

Harvey looks over at Rachel, standing there behind her desk, doing her best not to look at him, and steps into the room, calmly closing the door behind him.

He walks over to her desk, and she looks up at him. Swallows.

She’s worried. Good. She should be.

“I don’t like repeating myself, Rachel.”

“I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

Harvey tilts his head. “Unlike Mike, I’m unswayed by your shallow feminine wiles, and I feel no need to step in and save you from yourself. Or from the world. I’m not as kind as he is. And I’m also not as gullible.”

“Gullible?”

“You’re sorely mistaken if you think I’m not aware of what you’re doing. Allow me to remind you: Mike made his choice. And it wasn’t you.”

She swallows, grimaces, then squares her shoulders. 

“Don’t ever put him in this position again.”

“Or else what?”

“Do you really need me to give you an or else?” Harvey stares her down, watches her lips thin and her shoulders hunch. “You have no idea of the lengths I’ll go to protect him. If I were you, and that’s someone I sincerely hope to never be, I wouldn’t test me on just how far those lengths stretch.”

Harvey walks toward her office door, pulls it open.

“You’re threatened.”

He looks back at her, smirks. Her last ditch attempt at bravado is laughable. Like a kitten, flexing is claws. “I might be, if I weren’t so much at better at loving him than you ever were.”


	34. Chapter 34

The date is terrible, actually.

Mike had thought that dating a man would be easier, but it turns out he was wrong about that. Ridiculously wrong. If anything, it was worse than any date he’s ever had with a woman. 

So much for trying new things.

Mike sighs. He’d really wanted it to work out this time. The connection was instant, the pull undeniable, and then Mike had gone and screwed it up. Again.

Some people just weren’t meant to have nice things.

It’s why he’d gone to Grammy. Maybe it was lame, childish, but he’d wanted her comfort, he’d wanted her, just like he had as a an 11 year old. She had a way of fixing things, of making them seem not so bad. He just wanted to forget he’d screwed up again.

They watch old episodes of Wings and when she falls asleep he stands, slips his jacket back on and covers her up with her blanket before kissing her on the forehead and quietly closing her door.

He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, curls his shoulders a little to protect himself from the crisp fall air as he steps outside her building. He’s halfway down the steps when he looks up and stops in his tracks, shocked to see Harvey Specter standing in front of Grammy’s building, leaning on the side of his car.

“Harvey? What are you doing here?”

“We didn’t finish our date.”

Mike laughs sardonically. “After I spilled a half a bottle of Merlot on your suit, I didn’t think you’d want to.”

Harvey stands, walks toward the stairs, stops at the foot to look up at him, hands slipped into his pockets. “I have other suits, Mike.”

“Clearly.”

Harvey looks down at his immaculate suit then looks up at Mike, amused.

Mike sighs. “The date was a disaster, Harvey.”

He moves up a step slowly, then another. “And that was my fault.”

“Your fault, sure. Because you’re the one who stood up to go the bathroom and knocked a waitress over onto our table.”

Harvey smiles. “I made you uncomfortable. I pulled you out of your element. So I want to fix that. Take you on the date I should have, from the beginning.” He walks up the steps, slowly, until he stops on the step just below Mike, his neck tilted back just the slightest bit to look up at him. “How do you feel about pancakes?”


	35. Chapter 35

It’s late.

It’s late and the last place Harvey should be is at work, but his new associate is an idiot, which just goes to show that you shouldn’t hire the last guy you interview just because he seemed marginally better than all the other idiots who came before him.

Fucking Rick. Couldn’t find his own ass if Harvey showed him where it was.

He grabs his briefcase, heads toward the elevator bank, gives the late night janitor a nod as he passes. Pearson Hardman is empty, dark, quiet, and Harvey passes the deserted bullpen with a sigh.

Becoming Senior Partner was supposed to mean fewer late nights with menial work, not more.

He hears the singing as he approaches the elevator bank and slows down, stops just after the corner to see a man in a suit, messenger bag slung over his shoulder, dancing around, singing to the music coming through his earbuds. Harvey watches him, feels his lips twitch as the man bobs his head, as he spins and sings.

Harvey doesn’t recognize him, which means he must be the new paralegal everyone’s over the moon about. The one with the genius brain and a heart of gold.

Donna is very good at her job.

He turns his back to Harvey, begins singing and dancing to the closed elevator doors, and Harvey takes the opportunity to walk up behind him, to watch with a grin as he fakes a microphone and begins singing into it.

“Here’s my adviiiiiice…I don’t think twice for the priiiiiice of a cheap tiiime whore…so don’t come ba-”

“Sound advice.”

The man spins to look at Harvey, mouth open, slowly reaches up to yank the earbuds out of his ears. He begins to stutter when the elevator doors open and Harvey slips past him and into the elevator with a smirk. He presses the lobby button, looks at him with a lifted eyebrow, and the man moves with a start, hurrying into the elevator just as the doors close behind him.

Harvey stands at the front of the elevator, looks up and watches the numbers move down, catches the reflection of the man behind him in the silver doors. The music is still blaring from the earbuds, now hanging down the front of the man’s suit.

“Um, I’m…I didn’t think anyone else was there.”

“You’re the new paralegal. Mike.”

“You…I…I didn’t think you knew my name.”

Harvey looks at him over his shoulder. “I make it a point to know anyone worth knowing.”

Mike blushes, suddenly seems to realize he never turned the music off and scrambles to pull it out of his pocket, to turn it off. When he finally does, he looks up, embarrassed, pink staining his cheeks.

It’s adorable.

Harvey turns back to watch the numbers again. “I want you to report to my office tomorrow.”

“Your office? But I’m the low guy on the totem pole. Are you sure you don’t want someone else?”

“The first thing you should know about me, Mike,” Harvey begins to smile as the numbers slide from six…to five…to four. “Is that I’m always sure about what I want.”


	36. Chapter 36

It’s not that Harvey’s worried. He knows where he rates on Mike’s Important People list. They share a career, they share a bed, they share a life together.

It’s just that he’s been out there on the phone with Trevor for ten minutes so far, and judging from Mike’s body language, it doesn’t look like the conversation will be wrapping up anytime soon. Which would be fine, if Harvey hadn’t scheduled this date with Mike specifically because they’d barely seen any of each other all week.

So Harvey’s a little frustrated. 

The thing about Trevor that makes him dangerous, the thing that will always make him dangerous, is he has the advantage of history on his side. Twenty-nine years, to be precise. Harvey only has two. And sometimes that means there are anecdotes, inside jokes, stories that Harvey doesn’t know or understand. And Trevor always seems to find a way to use them to needle Harvey, to remind him that he has ways to make Mike smile that Harvey does not.

The waiter comes, drops off their food, and Harvey shifts his wine glass a little, picks up his fork and begins eating.

Their lamb has been better.

Or maybe he just enjoyed it more.

By the time Mike slips back into his seat with a smile, Harvey is more than half finished with his meal. Harvey only looks up at him briefly before continuing to eat.

“You started without me.”

Harvey nods, spears a carrot with his fork, slides it in his mouth before setting his fork down and looking up to catch their waiter’s eye and nodding, pulling the napkin off his lap and wiping at his mouth before setting it down to the right of his plate.

When he finally looks at Mike, he finds Mike watching him intently, his steak sitting in front of him untouched.

“You’re done.”

The waiter comes over with the check and Harvey stands, pulls out his wallet and drops a few bills to cover their dinner and the tip.

“Harvey, this was supposed to be date night.”

Harvey nods, slips his wallet back inside his suit coat pocket. “I got the memo, I’m just not sure you did.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“How’s Trevor, Mike?”

Mike opens and closes his mouth and Harvey spins, strides toward the front door of the restaurant, and ignores the sudden heavy weight resting in his stomach.

Their lamb has definitely been better.


	37. Chapter 37

It was always the plan when their son was born for Mike to stay home with him, and Harvey to go back to work. It’s what made sense, after all. Mike was just an associate and Harvey was a partner, and anyway, it added a little relief to the tension they’ve always had from carrying around their secret.

It was the plan, but it’s not easy. Not after spending the first month of their son’s life at home as a family, spending every moment with him. Harvey never gave babies much thought before, but Emmett is an endless fascination. He’s never loved anyone the way he loves him. It’s an entirely new and different feeling. And it makes it hard to walk away from him for even a moment.

Harvey never thought he’d be that guy. But he is, and it’s making the work day long.

If Donna or Jessica have noticed, they haven’t commented on it. And his work is as top notch as ever, so why would they?

Still, by midday he’s feeling it, so he escapes the office, heads downstairs to the street to grab a hot dog and a moment. If it’s all he can have, he’ll make it work.

But when he’s heading out through the doors of the building, onto the sidewalk, he spots Mike standing on the sidewalk a few feet away from Harvey’s favorite hot dog cart, baby sling wrapped around his body, smiling at him like he knows. 

Harvey walks up to them, gives Mike a smile before looking down at Emmett, cradled snugly against Mike’s chest. He gives him a smile, lets the back of his finger smooth down Emmett’s baby soft cheek.

Mike says, “Hi.”

Harvey looks up, smiles. “Hi.”


	38. Chapter 38

“Harvey? What are you doing here?”

Harvey tilts his head, opens his mouth to speak when Mike cuts him off.

“I gave you back everything you needed for the meeting with Haverford tomorrow, didn’t I?” He reaches behind the door for his bag, hanging on the wall, and starts to rifle through it quickly, desperately. “Because I could have sworn I did, but if I didn’t, shit, I’m sorry, I-”

“Mike.”

Mike stops going through his bag, looks up at him.

Things haven’t been easy lately. Mike is still working his way back into Harvey’s good graces so he’s gone at work even harder than he did when he first started, desperate to prove how valuable he is to Harvey, to what he does. To what they do. And that means even longer nights than ever, spent even more alone.

Rachel slapped him when he told her it was never going to work between them, that he had to choose between her and Harvey and he was choosing Harvey. He didn’t blame her for it. And when she sneered at him, told him he didn’t even _have_ Harvey, that Harvey had always seen him as the screw up he was, Mike knew she was right.

He had to win back Harvey, step by step, or risk losing the most important thing he’s ever had. And if that meant it would take months before Harvey even said his name in passing, then so be it. Mike would do it.

So he started at the bottom, began fighting with everything he had, determined to show Harvey he wasn’t wrong to trust in Mike. And it’s been a long road. But finally, finally…they’re beginning to reach the place they were before Mike went and screwed it all up.

But if he forgot to give Harvey everything he needed, shit…Mike didn’t need a screw up. Not now. Not when his stock was just beginning to rise, not when Harvey was finally looking him in the eye again, not when they were finally sharing private jokes and early morning kung pao chicken over contracts.

“Is there something you forgot to mention?”

Mike furrows his eyebrows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I _did_ give you everything, right?”

“Did you just think I wouldn’t remember?”

Mike opens his mouth then closes it. He’s so lost. “Harvey, what are you talking about?”

Harvey pulls his hand out from behind his back, holds it up between them. And in his hand, he’s holding a small rectangular package wrapped in blue paper with a silver bow, a cupcake with one lit candle sitting on top, the flame dancing.

“Happy birthday, Mike.”

“Oh.”

Mike hadn’t given his birthday much thought, actually. He’d splurged on a breakfast sandwich instead of just a bagel that morning and left it at that. No reason to make a fuss over something that didn’t matter much anymore, not without anyone in his life to celebrate it with. Just another day.

Except Harvey remembered.

“I think I got in just under the wire.”

Mike looks down at his watch, watches the minute hand move one dash closer to midnight. 11:58.

“Make a wish, Mike.”


	39. Chapter 39

“Now what do you really need, Michael?”

Mike takes a bite of the sandwich, chews and swallows, looks forward at the people walking by in front of them. “I told you…a time machine.”

“I didn’t think you were being serious. You know I don’t do that.”

“Yeah…” Mike looks over at him. “But we both know you can.”

“It’s not _allowed_. You know how much trouble I could get in if anyone found out we were even having this conversation.”

“But we both know you’re too good to be caught.”

Benjamin looks at him, sighs. “Is this about your last case?”

“Harvey died, Benjamin.”

“It happens. You know that.”

Mike shakes his head firmly. “Not to him. It wasn’t supposed to happen to him. It’s my fault he’s dead.”

“Michael, there’s nothing you could’ve done. Agents aren’t supposed to interfere.”

Mike looks forward. “Yeah. They make us get close, and then they force us to watch them die. But I can’t do it, not this time.” He looks over at Benjamin. “Not this time.”

He looks at him, sees the intensity in his eyes, and understands. He feels himself deflate. “You fell in love with him. And they made you watch him die.”

“Will you help me, Benjamin?”


	40. Chapter 40

“So what _is_ the point?”

Mike shifts. “I was talking to the client earlier-”

“Always a good idea.”

Mike gives him a look but otherwise ignores that. “And she mentioned everything she does with her husband to keep things fresh, and it just…made me realize that you and I…we have a pretty strict routine.”

“And?”

He sighs. “We’ve only been married for two years. Aren’t you worried we’re just going to wake up one morning and realize how bored we are with our life together?”

“Are you bored with our life together, Mike?”

“No, I just…I don’t ever want to wake up and feel that way.”

Harvey steps toward him, closes the gap between them. “I love you.” Mike smiles at that. “And I like you, or I’d have never asked you to marry me. I get to see you more in a day than most husbands get to see their other halves. We work together on something we love, and at the end of the night we get to go home and fall in bed together. We have more than most will ever get. So as far as I can see, we’re leagues ahead of everyone else.”

Mike surges forward, kisses him. Harvey smiles into it. When Mike pulls back, a hint of pink tipping his cheeks, Harvey tilts his head and looks him over.

“We good?”

Mike lets out a soft, “Yeah.”

Harvey nods. “Good.”


	41. Chapter 41

“Stop fidgeting.”

Mike sighs, shifts uncomfortably and buttons up his jacket as he looks anxiously at the doors to the hotel.

“These are your friends, Harvey. I just…I want to make a good impression. I know they’re all wondering who I am, why you married a man in Vegas you’d just met.”

“I don’t give a shit what they think.”

Mike looks over at Harvey, standing next to him, calmly looking at the doors with a serene smile on his face, and wonders how he manages it. How can he not care?

Mike shifts again, watches as the doors slide open. “These people were in your life long before I was.”

Harvey hums his acknowledgment. “And they still don’t matter as much as you do.”

Mike looks over at him, his heart in his throat.

Harvey’s smiling at him, the corners of his eyes crinkling. His eyes slide down Mike’s body, slide back up. “You look gorgeous.”

“So do you.”

Harvey’s smile grows and he turns, begins walking toward the open doors.

“I am excited to meet Donna.”

Harvey hums, says, “Not half as excited as she is to meet you. Just a word of caution…it might be best to face her at all times if you can.”

“What? Why?”

Harvey smirks. “I may have mentioned how much I appreciate your ass. Her exact words were, and I quote, I’ll believe it when I feel it myself, after I’ve completed my interrogation. End quote.”

“Interrogation? Great.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Can’t you tell her to keep her hands…and her questions…to herself?”

“Lesson number one, Mike: no one tells Donna what to do. Just remember that, and you’ll be fine.”

“Right. Fine. Absolutely. I’ll be _fine_ , he says, like I’m not about to face a one woman firing squad with grabby hands and a room full of people who are dying to find out exactly what makes me tick.”

“Pass Donna’s test, and you won’t have to worry about anyone else. She’ll protect you like a lioness.”

Mike looks over at him. “And what if I don’t pass?”

Harvey looks at him. “Of course you will. I have excellent taste.”


	42. Chapter 42

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Mike swallows, shakes his head, resolutely _does not look at him_ as he continues packing away some of the things he left behind the night before into a file box. “Leave it, Harvey.”

“ _No_.” There’s a pause and then he says, softly, “Why are you doing this?”

“This is the only way.”

He doesn’t want to admit that. It feels like giving up, giving up on what they’ve accomplished together, on everything he’s done right since his borrowed briefcase popped open and spilled out Trevor’s influence all over the hotel carpet.

Mostly it feels like giving up on Harvey, on them, and that’s something he never thought he’d ever do.

But what do you do when your choice is between saving someone you love and keeping him?

Mike can’t be selfish. Not in this.

“No, it’s not. Mike. Look at me.”

But Mike can’t look at him. Because if he does, if he sees the look on Harvey’s face, he knows he’ll crumble. He’ll do whatever Harvey wants him to do. But that can’t happen, or Harvey’s life as he knows it will be over, and everything he’s worked so hard for will be gone.

And Mike can’t do that to the man who gave him everything, even if he doesn’t understand. Even if he thinks Mike is just another person in a long line who claims they love him, then leaves.

“I can fix it. _Let me_ fix it.”

And oh god, how Mike wishes he could.

“No, this isn’t it. This isn’t the way this ends. This isn’t the way we end.”

Mike looks up at that, startled. They’ve never said it before, not out loud. 

Harvey is looking at him, pained and intent and like Mike is the only thing he needs, the only thing that has ever mattered, and Mike can feel his resolve starting to crumble.

“Mike, _what is it_? What happened?”

They’ve been here before, and Mike made the wrong choice last time. He doesn’t want to do that again. He doesn’t want to make choices for him, like he has the right. It’s not what Harvey wants, and it’s not what he needs.

So he tells him. It goes against every single protective instinct he has, but he tells him.

“I got a letter. And it said if I didn’t quit immediately, they’d tell everyone I never went to Harvard, and that you helped. You’d lose your license, I’d go to prison.”

Harvey steps forward. “I’ll _fix_ it.”

He’s so sure. So sure of everything and Mike, just…

“I don’t think you can this time.”

He looks down at the box in his hands and suddenly it hits him how ephemeral this past two years have been. His whole borrowed life as a lawyer fits into one little box.

“Mike, we’re _not_ done.”

Mike wants to believe it. He does.

“We’re not done. Do you understand?”

Maybe if Harvey says it enough, he’ll start to believe it.


	43. Chapter 43

Harvey looks up from his desk with amusement as Mike strolls by his office again, tilting his head just so, trying to look in Harvey’s office, trying to look at _Harvey_ , without giving his interest away. The kid could use some lessons in subtlety, that’s for sure.

“Harvey.” Harvey looks through the glass at Donna, sitting at her desk, leaned forward, staring him down. “Put the poor thing out of his misery. He’s wearing a path down in front of my desk.”

Harvey pauses then nods at her, leaning back in his chair and looking out the windows in his office at the buildings beyond.

Donna calls out Mike’s name a little louder than is strictly necessary, and Harvey smiles to himself briefly before he looks at his office door and sees Mike come practically skidding inside, fingers worrying at his suit coat buttons, unbuttoning then re-buttoning.

“You wanted to see me?”

Harvey stands from his chair, walks over to him, comes to a stop right in front of him, tilts his head.

“This is…about, uh, last night, right? I just got carried away, you know? I’m _sorry_ , and I-”

“Mike.”

Harvey’s tone is gentle, and he smiles a little at him, sighs in affection. Mike’s eyes dart back and forth across his face. He swallows. Harvey’s sure if he put his head to Mike’s chest he’d hear his heart, hammering away.

“Did I say I didn’t want it? Or that I didn’t enjoy it?”

Mike’s lips part, his eyes widen, his tongue darts out to lick his lips.

“You enjoyed it?”

Harvey hums, smiles a little wider. “I did.”

“Oh.”

Harvey steps forward, kisses him quickly, softly. When he pulls back Mike’s eyes are bright and hopeful and he leans forward a little into Harvey’s space, chasing the kiss.

There will be time for that later.

“Get back to work. I need the Forsman briefs on my desk by five.”

“Later?” At Harvey’s charmed nod, Mike takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and grins. “You got it.”

He slides out of Harvey’s office and hurries down the hall and Harvey glances over at Donna to see her mouthing _thank you_ at him.

“Now, was that really so hard?”

“Donna.”

“If the theory of alternate universes is true, you realize that there’s a universe out there where all the two of you do is stare at each other and practically undress each other with your eyes and never do anything about it.”

“Donna.”

“God, I feel really bad for other me.”

“Donna.”

“I know you think you’re being subtle, but you’re not.”

“ _Donna_.”

She looks up at him, meets his eyes through the glass. “What?”

“Get back to work.”


	44. Chapter 44

It all ends on a Tuesday, which Mike thinks is just the world fucking with him, because the car crash happened on a Tuesday, he got kicked out of school on a Tuesday, and Grammy died on a Tuesday.

What’s one more life changing event at this point?

But it’s not wholly unexpected, which Mike guesses is just the way it goes when you spend your life perpetually worried that the proverbial shoe is going to drop. It’s sad that it also feels like a sort of relief, no longer needing to hold onto a secret so massive, but it is what it is, which is exactly what Mike repeats to himself, inside his head, as he walks out of the building for the last time, a box in his hands.

He splurges on a taxi home and as he walks in his building, stops by the super to let her know he won’t be needing the apartment anymore. She’s understanding, but Mike knows that some of that is because she can raise the rent on the next guy. Not that he blames her.

He walks up the stairs and calls a buddy, asks him if he wants Mike’s furniture in return for storing a few boxes of Mike’s stuff. He figures he could use it more than Mike, and he’s not attached to it, even if he’ll always love laughing with Harvey at the table in their mismatched chairs.

Mike takes a good hard look around the apartment, packs up what he can’t live without in a couple of suitcases, boxes up the rest for Charlie to store for him. He looks at the bed, thinks about crashing one more time, then shoulders his bags, grabs his bike, and heads out of the apartment for Grand Central.

It’s obvious there’s no reason for him to stay in New York, not since Grammy’s gone and Jenny won’t return his calls and he hasn’t talked to Trevor in months. Not without a job that meant the world to him, a job he was great at. Not without Harvey. There’s nothing for him anymore.

He picks the first destination that looks remotely interesting, and buys a one way ticket.

Settling in isn’t so hard. It isn’t New York - nothing is - but Mike finds a furnished apartment over a second hand bookstore the first day and a job as a waiter the next, and it isn’t enough, but some days he can convince himself it’s something close.

He’s the best waiter they have, which isn’t much to write home about but quickly earns him certain allowances some of the other waitstaff don’t get, like the chance to choose his shifts. 

He makes it a point to avoid working Tuesdays.

But about six months after he starts about half of the waitstaff goes down with the flu, so Mike sighs but agrees to work a shift for Tabitha when she pleads him, her sniffling baby in her arms.

Mike never could say no to a lady with a baby.

Mike is just setting two plates down at table 9 when Mandy walks by and tells him he has a single at 4, oh and by the way, _totally cute_. Mike shakes his head at her, pulls his order pad out of his apron pocket, and zigzags through the table, smiling at elderly Mrs. Puckett when she pats his arm as he walks by.

Mike is preparing himself to go through his spiel again - Hi, I’m Mike, and I’ll be your waiter tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink? - when he stops cold, his order pad and pen suddenly too large in his hands.

“Harvey.”

He looks good. He looks good, and Mike feels like he’s been punched in the stomach.

Harvey smiles at him, understanding and warm, and Mike comes back to himself.

“Donna?”

Harvey smile morphs to become something a little sly, a little fond, and says, “Donna doesn’t do everything for me.”

“What are you doing here, Harvey?”

“I came to bring you home.”

Mike shakes his head. “There’s nothing left for me in New York.”

“There’s me.” Harvey stands, steps out from behind the table and up to Mike. “And I’ll help you figure out the rest.”


	45. Chapter 45

“You’re not using your legs.”

Harvey turns, looks at the man standing on the other side of the chain link fence. He drops the bat head to rest on the ground, looks over at his father, who just looks amused as he watches the both of them.

“You’re doing all your swinging with your upper body.”

“That was a solid double.”

“And it could’ve been a home run. But maybe you’re just a doubles kind of guy.”

The guy grins, taunting, stretches his arms above his head and curls his fingers around the chain link as he leans forward. He can’t be older than twenty-five, but his face says he might be a hair younger, and he’s just about brimming over with cocky self-assurance. Harvey remembers what that was like, what it was to be so young and so sure that you’re convinced nothing can touch you.

“I hit three eighty five.”

“In Little League? Because you know that doesn’t count, right?”

Harvey shakes his head, edges closer. “High school. I led the league.”

He groans, throws his head back. “That’s worse.”

Behind him Harvey hears his dad start to laugh and he flips the bat up into his hand, holds it out grip first to the man. “Okay, show me up.” The man starts to protest and Harvey says, “Or are you the kind of guy who just talks a big game, but can’t follow through?”

The man seems to consider this for a second, then skirts around the fence, walks onto the diamond through the gate. He takes the bat and Harvey steps back to stand by his father, watching the man step into the batters box and up to the plate. He gives a few practice swings then gets into his batting stance, crouched, waiting.

_Crack._

The ball goes sailing up and over the edge of the outfield fence, and Harvey watches the man watch the ball fly, something like a pleased calm washing over his face as the ball leaves the field. That’s exactly how Harvey used to feel when he played and it takes a moment before he realizes he’s smiling.

Harvey’s father laughs and the man turns, holds out the bat. Harvey takes it, steps forward, holds out his hand.

“Harvey.”

“Mike.”


	46. Chapter 46

In his life before Pearson Hardman but after being kicked out of school, Mike went through periods of restlessness, times where his mind was so active that no matter what he did, he couldn’t shut it off, not even to sleep. It was almost always in the late hours of the night or the early hours of the morning, when the darkness and relative silence are best at reminding you of all your mistakes, your failures, things Mike couldn’t bring himself to dwell on. So he started to read.

He’d pick a topic, something he didn’t know anything about, and read as much as he could until his eyes wouldn’t focus anymore and holding his head up was difficult. Until he was nodding off with his fingers on the keys.

One night, when he was reading up on autism, he read an article about the use of weighted blankets for therapeutic reasons, that they can help calm an autistic child, and he remembers thinking how much he’d hate that, how even as a kid he’d kicked off the covers because they’d felt too heavy, too oppressive, or yanked his hand out of his mother’s when she’d held on, too restricted. 

But when Harvey’s hand slides up his back and onto his shoulder, just rests there, Mike closes his eyes and falls into the weight of his hand, into the feeling of his restlessness dropping off, lets his brain slow. He feels grounded, calm.

Maybe there’s such a thing as the right kind of heavy.


	47. Chapter 47

It was Mike’s idea, not Harvey’s.

Harvey’s idea of a vacation includes an actual bed, room service, and little to no clothing, not hiking boots and sleeping on the ground and lukewarm outdoor showers that last three minutes. Tops.

But a few weeks ago Mike had said, “You know what would be fun? Camping,” in that voice Harvey quickly came to recognize as meaning _I haven’t done that since I was a kid with my parents_ and then it became difficult to refuse him.

So Harvey simply said, “Sure. That would be fun.”

And if Mike’s smile warmed him for the rest of the day, well, he wasn’t telling.

But he’d conveniently pushed to the back of his mind the things about camping he could do without, like figuring out how and where to pee in the dark, or tying up their food and hanging it up in a tree so the bears couldn’t get to it. And sleeping on an air mattress just wasn’t cutting it.

But Mike just seems so happy, out in the wilderness where their phones get no reception, snuggled up to Harvey in the morning, his nose pressed to Harvey’s shoulder. And Harvey has to confess he’s never wanted to kiss Mike so much as he does right now, happy and calm as he reaches for his guitar, firelight flickering across his face.

Mike tastes like marshmallows and chocolate, and the guitar only gives the slightest hollow ring when Mike lets it slip from his fingers and fall into the dirt.


	48. Chapter 48

“You were gone when I woke up this morning.”

Mike stops pacing in front of the windows in Harvey’s office, looks over at him as he adjusts the stack of files in his arms.

“Yeah, sorry.” The apology is genuine, if rushed and distracted. “I didn’t have a clean suit at your place, and I still had all this work to do on the Berkman contract because he wants it _today_ , even though it's Christmas Eve, so I just came right over.” He makes a whip cracking sound and flips open the top file in his hands, resumes pacing. “Mush, associate! Mush!”

“You could’ve worn one of mine.”

Mike steals a quick glance at him. “No, I couldn’t.”

And Harvey nods to himself because they both know that’s true. Harvey’s suits are just a little too big; they fit just a little wrong. And more than that, they aren’t Mike’s. Everyone would know he was wearing Harvey’s suit, and Jessica was very clear when they revealed their relationship to her: “Keep it out of the office”.

And they have. Harvey is very good at keeping both parts of his life separate, and surprisingly, once the drama exited his life and Harvey entered it, Mike has been good at it too. 

But lately Harvey’s felt like that arrangement just leaves a lot to be desired. He’ll never be the type to make out with Mike in the conference room, but doesn’t want to have to hide it either. 

This morning Harvey woke up alone, in an empty apartment, because the man he loves still leaves most of his clothes, most of his life, in a place in Brooklyn he pays the rent for, but barely ever sees. There’s always somewhere he can go if they fight, if they have problems, and it’s too easy. It feels like Mike constantly has one foot out the door, even while he’s lying in Harvey’s bed.

Which is the other part of the problem.

Mike’s place is Mike’s place and Harvey’s place is Harvey’s place, and that doesn’t work anymore. Not for Harvey.

What he wants is a life so entangled with Mike’s, so messy, they could never be extracted from each other.

He pulls the small box out of his pocket, holds it out in front of Mike. Mike comes to a stop, sets the files down, and looks at Harvey as he takes the box from him.

“Merry Christmas, Mike.”


	49. Chapter 49

Harvey starts to walk away, toward the front door, but stops when he hears Mike spit out, “That’s not good enough.”

Harvey turns, slowly. “Excuse me?”

Mike pauses and then swallows his courage. Steps closer. “That’s bullshit, and we both know it.”

He scoffs. “I’m not your relationship swami, Mike. And you don’t want me to be.”

Harvey turns away again, hopes Mike will leave it at that. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Harvey bites down the curse, sends a sharp look Mike’s direction. Of course he can’t leave it alone. “It means you couldn’t handle the truth if I gave it to you.”

Mike squares his shoulders. “Try me.”

Harvey looks at him a moment then stops, shakes his head. “No, we’re not doing this right now.”

Mike groans in exasperation, rubs his hands over his face roughly. “You’re so _frustrating_. Is it so hard for you to pretend like you care about me for five seconds when it has nothing to do with work?”

Harvey clenches his jaw, steels himself against the ache he feels building in his chest. “You know, for a genius you’re an oblivious little shit sometimes.” Mike’s mouth opens and Harvey says, “Fine, you want the truth? Your relationships always fail because you _make_ them fail. You set yourself up for failure from the beginning by choosing the wrong person, expecting them to change, then act like a blindsided idiot when they don’t.

"Life’s dealt you a shitty hand and taken away a lot of people you love. And you’re so desperate to be cared for that you give your heart out to anyone who shows the slightest interest in it.”

Mike swallows, looks away as his fingers clench and unclench reflexively, and Harvey softens.

“I let people in, Mike. It’s just a very, very short list of people I trust, people I love, who have a permanent place in my life.” Mike looks up at him. “My casual Friday night dates don’t fit that criteria.”

Mike nods, lets his eyes drift away as he thinks it over.

“You do.”

Mike’s eyes dart back to his and his mouth parts like he wants to speak, but nothing comes out.

“I don’t negotiate with drug dealers for just anyone. And I don’t tell just anyone about my father.”

Mike breathes out. “Harvey…”

“I thought I should make that perfectly clear, since you seemed to be suffering under the misapprehension that I don’t care about you.”

Mike takes one halting step forward and goes to lift his hand but drops it. He looks off kilter, wide-eyed and unsure, and Harvey steps forward, lifts the tie sticking out of Mike’s bag with one long, slow tug.

He buttons Mike’s shirt up the rest of the way, flips his collar up, slips the silk around his neck. He ties it with practiced hands, pulls it up snug with Mike’s throat, flips his collar back down.

“You need someone who puts you first, who takes care of you. Someone who knows what to do with your heart when you give it to them.”

Mike’s eyes lock on his and he says, “And what if I’ve already found them?”

Harvey buttons up Mike’s suit coat, smooths his hands down the front before slipping them into his pockets.

“I think you know the answer to that.”


	50. Chapter 50

“You’re hopeless, you know that?”

“You could help, you know.”

Neal smirks. “I think I like watching you struggle.”

Mike rolls his eyes. He’s trying, he really is, but it’s not like he does this a lot, not like he has much of an occasion to wear a bow tie. And his shaking hands aren’t helping matters.

“Nervous?”

Mike mutters, “Shut up,” as he grits his teeth and somehow manages to get his fingers even more tangled up in his stupid black bow tie.

“You don’t have any reason to be, you know.”

Mike sighs, looks over at Neal. “I just don’t want to disappoint Harvey.”

“Reading between the lines?” He arches an eyebrow. “The only way you could do that is if you went behind his back, or if you showed up on someone else’s arm tonight. Come here.”

Neal tugs Mike forward, undoes his mess of a tie and reties it in record time with deft fingers.

Mike looks down, pats the tie softly with an open hand. “Thanks, Neal.”

Neal looks forward, smiles a little. “What are brothers for?”


	51. Chapter 51

“You just don’t give up, do you?”

Harvey grins, boyish and sure as he slides out of the Mustang, smoothly closes the door behind him. He leans back against the door, slips his hands into his pockets, crosses his feet at the ankle.

“I don’t believe in giving up on things I want, no.”

Mike huffs a laugh, lets his eyes stray for a moment to the front window of the bookstore to his left, where his coworkers are watching, their faces practically pressed against the window.

“I’m just a passing fancy. You’ll get over it.”

Harvey’s grin grows. “I don’t spend four weeks wooing someone if they’re a passing fancy.”

“Harvey-”

“Something tells me you’re not the kind of guy you get over.”

Mike’s eyes snap back to his, search his face. Harvey’s absolutely serious, something he manages to convey in spite of his relaxed posture, his amiable grin. He will fight, he will continue to show up until Mike gives him a chance. Mike believes that. The proof is in the last four weeks, in the delivery men who show up just before his lunch break with Italian or Thai or Mexican, always with a cheeky little note from Harvey. Or the packages from Amazon that are handed to him by his amused boss, filled with DVDs he knows he never ordered. They’re in the concert tickets slipped into his hand with a twenty when Harvey buys another book Mike seriously questions he’ll ever read, Harvey telling him with a grin to “keep the change”. 

They’re in Harvey showing up constantly, always with a grin, always looking at Mike like he's _something_ , something more than the guy who made him an extra hot latte and recommended a Kazuo Ishiguro novel once.

No one’s ever looked at Mike like Harvey does. No one’s ever hung on his every word, or brightened when Mike walks into the room. He feels _important_.

It’s not a feeling he’s used to.

“Why me, Harvey?”

He shoves his hands into his jacket pockets, shuffles from one foot to the other, huffs out a breath that forms a cloud in the icy air.

Harvey slips off the sunglasses, steps away from the car and up to Mike. He meets Mike’s eyes, gives him a small, private smile.

“Give me one date, and I’ll show you why.”


	52. Chapter 52

“I’m so glad you said that Harvey, because the next mock trial is yours.”

Jessica’s smile could cut glass.

She steps fully into his office, sways up to the front of his desk. Mike is standing just off to her right side now, having backed up when she entered, staring at both of them with an open mouth and furrowed eyebrows. Jessica doesn’t so much as glance in his direction.

“Excuse me?”

She folds her hands in front of her. “Friday. Ten ‘o clock.”

“I’m a _Senior Partner_.”

“Yes. You are. And Louis is a Junior Partner. So beating him should be no problem at all for you. Child’s play, really.”

Harvey rolls his eyes. “What, are you going to revoke my senior partnership if I lose?”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous.”

Harvey smirks to himself, satisfied, and looks over at Mike, who’s still watching the pair of them with nervous eyes. Which is, quite honestly, his natural state whenever Jessica’s near. 

Smart, really.

“But you _will_ be forced to forfeit Mike.”

Harvey’s head turn is whip quick. “ _Excuse me_?”

“Lose the mock trial, and lose Mike. For good.” Her smile grows as her eyebrow lifts. “Or did you think I was unaware that Mike and his gigantic brain are at the center of your fights these days?”

Harvey steps around the desk, bites out, “You can’t do this. Mike is my associate. _I_ hired him.”

“I’m the Managing Partner, Harvey. I think you’ll find I can do whatever I like.”

She gives him one final, sharp smile before turning and gliding out of his office.

Harvey stares after her, watches as Donna stands from her chair, looks in through the glass with wide eyes. Harvey nods his head minutely at her. There’s no use pretending she wasn’t listening in the whole time.

He circles back around to behind his desk, looks at Donna as he says, “Start compiling witnesses. You know who.”

Donna gives him a little smirk before she strides off down the hall with purpose.

“Harvey…”

Harvey looks back at Mike, still standing in the spot he took when Jessica walked into Harvey’s office, jaw clenched, shoulders pulled in. Mike looks away, swallows.

“Mike.” Mike looks back at him. “You’re not going _anywhere_. Understand?”

Mike pauses, nods once.

A smile begins to grow on Harvey’s face as he slips around his desk, walks up to Mike. “They don’t call me New York’s Greatest Closer for nothing.” His smile is bright now, blinding. “Louis has no idea what’s coming his way.”


	53. Chapter 53

Mike looks good for someone who’s been up for 27 hours straight.

New Year’s Eve was supposed to be a quiet night for them - dinner at their favorite restaurant then back home, no parties, no business obligations, no carving out whatever spot they could find in an overstuffed city as they waited for a glorified disco ball to drop and usher in the new year. 

And then John Washington’s assistant had called, and demanded Harvey and Mike meet him across the country to discuss his contract. He was unsure, you see. Maybe he wanted to go with another firm. Was this all he could get? So Harvey and Mike cow towed to Jessica’s raised eyebrow and hopped on the first flight they could to Los Angeles.

They flew over in their tuxedos on a half full flight, Mike fidgeting in the seat next to him in first class, a byproduct of too little sleep and the newness of going somewhere he’d never been.

Harvey only puts his hand on Mike’s thigh a few times to settle him.

When they walk into Washington’s party, the man is all smiles when he sees them, relaxed and calm in a way that makes Harvey smile tightly in response. But then he feels Mike’s hand on his lower back and looks over to see Mike smiling at him, and he feels the frustration ebb away, his smile loosen into something more natural.

He lets Washington show them around the room to everyone - in a party full of starlets and industry elite, Harvey and Mike are something else entirely, fascinating and different. Mike smiles winningly at all the starlets and most of the stars, and it amuses Harvey when some of the men get a twinkle in their eye, when they stop to consider Mike a little more.

They’re charming, witty, appropriately in love with movies in a town that expects nothing less. It’s easy, really, what Harvey does best, and he works the room like a master.

As the hours go by, Washington gets happier and Harvey and Mike get closer. Harvey doesn’t remember exactly when Mike started leaning into him, when he started holding out hors d'oeuvres for Harvey to taste. But Harvey accepts each bite, slips his arm back to rest on Mike’s back, on his hip. He ignores the voice in his head that tells him he can’t have this later, that back home, where their relationship is still a secret, this won’t be so easy.

Washington signs the contracts happily hours later, when the party guests have all gone home, when the sun is starting to climb in the sky. Harvey takes over and Mike leaves them to it, walking out of the room. Harvey finds him a few minutes later standing out on the patio, leaning against the glass railing, looking beautiful and rumpled.

Harvey kisses him, because Mike is so damn beautiful and Harvey is so damn grateful and because there isn’t anything else he wants to do more.

There’s no one left for them to impress, no one here to hide from, and Harvey leans in and kisses Mike once, twice, three more times. Mike smiles into every single one.

LA isn’t New York, not by a long shot - nothing ever will be - but as the morning sun lights up Mike’s face, as Mike slips his hands under Harvey’s tux jacket and slide around his ribs, Harvey thinks if they ever had to, they could make LA work.


	54. Chapter 54

The moment their hands meet and Harvey looks up, into the man’s eyes in front of him, he pauses, taken aback.

_No._

“Mike?”

“ _Harvey_?” Mike laughs, softly, incredulously. “Small world.”

“Yeah,” Harvey breathes out.

It’s been years since Harvey met Mike in a dark, noisy bar, years since their eyes locked, since Harvey used a lame pickup line that made Mike laugh. Years since they stumbled into the back of a cab, years since Harvey invited him home, years since he felt his heart beat faster to the rhythm of Mike’s gasps and laughs and moans.

After a few moments he comes to his senses, indicates with a wave of the hand for Mike to come further into the room, to sit down.

Mike follows, goes to sit in the chair in front of the desk when the briefcase in his hand pops open, spilling its contents all over the floor.

Harvey goes to help when he notices exactly what the contents of the briefcase are, and then he stops, looks at Mike with a raised eyebrow. “You’re a drug dealer?”

Mike scrambles to shove it all back into the case. “It’s…I’m not…this is…” He sighs, deflates as he drops into the chair. “If I told you it wasn’t mine, would you believe me?”

Harvey sits down behind the desk. “Depends. Is it?”

“No.” Mike licks his lips. “You didn’t call.” He looks down, then back up. “I left you my number, and you didn’t call.”

Harvey tilts his head, feels himself soften. “I wanted to.”

Mike nods, looks down. He doesn’t look convinced.

“But I lost the napkin.”

Mike looks back up.

“You gave me your number in the bar, but that wasn’t enough for me. I didn’t want to wait for you. I think you’ll remember that.” Harvey smirks and Mike blushes. It’s beautiful, watching the flush spread across his skin. A beautiful memory Harvey thought he’d never see again. “And somewhere in my haste to take you home with me, the napkin fell out of my pocket.

"I’d hoped you might stop by one day, but you never did.”

“You didn’t call. I didn’t think you were interested in seeing me again.”

“Oh,” Harvey says softly. “I assure you, I was. I am. Now,” He leans forward. “You want to tell me whose pot that is? And what kind of trouble you’re in?”

Mike seems to deflate at that, slumps in his chair. “It’s…there’s nothing you can do.”

“Try me.”


	55. Chapter 55

It’s been ten months since Jessica fired Mike.

Eight and a half months since Harvey came to his senses and asked Mike out for dinner.

Just shy of five months since Harvey cleared out space in his closet and a drawer in the bathroom for Mike.

Three months since Mike moved in officially and gave up his Brooklyn apartment for good.

Three weeks since they got married.

Marcus was surprised when Harvey called and asked him to be his best man, cautious. But he flew in from California on short notice anyway, grinning when Harvey and Mike met him at the airport. Harvey gets it - the issue for Marcus wasn’t Mike, it was Harvey getting married at all, something he once swore to his brother he’d only do once during a late night, vodka-induced call his senior year of college.

Thing was, no matter how much alcohol he’d consumed, Harvey had meant every word of it then, and he means it now. Marcus only had cause for concern because he didn’t know Mike. So Harvey went off to work a few days before the wedding, and left Marcus and Mike to spend the day together.

Harvey came home that night to Mike and Mike’s newest, biggest fan. And pizza with cheese in the crust.

Brats.

It’s all easier than Harvey ever thought it could be. Mike fits - in his life, in his family - like he should have been there all along. And he’s so much happier, now that there’s no secret hovering above them constantly.

And happy is exactly how Harvey would like to keep him.

Harvey looks across the table at Mike, sipping from his orange juice, eyes focused down the street as he watches some street artists from behind Harvey’s Wayfarers. It’s still fairly early on a Sunday, and they sit at a table outside this new restaurant in Brooklyn Mike wanted to try, eggs benedict in front of Harvey, waffles in front of Mike.

On impulse, Harvey picks up his phone and snaps a shot of Mike.

Mike turns to him, grins, lifts the sunglasses to sit on top of his head.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Mike blushes. He’s still getting used to that, to Harvey’s overt, public appreciation, the same way he’s still getting used to having a family again, to having money. Every time they go out, Mike’s eyes still search for the cheapest prices on the menu. Still, Harvey has a lifetime to get him there. He can be patient.

Mike leans forward, reaches out and uses his fork to grab a bite of Harvey’s food, grinning at him as he chews. 

Happy looks good on him.


	56. Chapter 56

Mike hasn’t moved from that spot for ten minutes.

He keeps staring at the desk, at the wall, at the windows, as if he expects something to change. He’s tense, tight, something Harvey could read from across the building. But then, no one knows Mike the way Harvey does.

He knew today would be difficult for him, but maybe he underestimated just how much.

“Mike.”

Mike turns, looks at him. Harvey tilts his head, smiles at him, hands in his pockets. He’s looking a little lost right now, and it makes Harvey feel impossibly fond.

“I thought you’d be close to done by now.”

Mike ducks his head, looks away.

“Yeah.”

“Are you having second thoughts?”

That’s been a concern for Harvey from the beginning, since they made their decision. Mike had agreed readily to staying home to raise their son when he was born, but he hadn’t known then how he’d feel on the actual day he said goodbye to Pearson Hardman - and most likely to being a lawyer - for good. Because once Mike quits, there’s little chance he would ever be able to go back. Harvey’s forever grateful he went out on a limb for Mike, but he can’t imagine anyone else taking that sort of risk. And Mike doesn’t have the security of a legal degree to hand someone else to prove his skill.

And bringing Mike back? Harvey can’t see Jessica ever agreeing to that, not when she’s so very relieved Mike is walking away of his own volition.

“ _No_. I don’t regret our decision at all. It was the only decision to make. It was the only one I _would_ have made. I don’t want Emmett to be raised by nannies.” Harvey nods and Mike looks around a little at his office before looking back at Harvey. “Walking out of here, knowing I won’t be back except as a visitor…it’s just more difficult than I thought it would be.”

“You’ll always be more than a visitor.”

He nods. He knows that, or maybe he’s just trying to reassure Harvey. “I worked hard for this, for all of it. My degree may be fake, but everything we were able to do together was real. Emmett is the only one I’d give all this up for. He’s more than worth it. But it still feels a little like tapping out on the one thing that led to everything.”

Harvey nods to himself, wanders inside Mike’s - now former - office, takes his Harvard diploma off the wall. “You’re not tapping out. You’re leaving because you have a better opportunity waiting for you.”

One by one he takes Mike’s frames off the wall, puts them in box sitting on Mike’s desk. He stops in front of his husband, smiles at him. Mike smiles back, familiar and a little rueful.

Harvey waggles his eyebrows. “Last chance to christen your office.”

Mike startles out a laugh.


	57. Chapter 57

“I’m really sorry, Harvey.”

Harvey shakes his head - a reflex and nothing more, since Ray is currently on the other end of the phone, at the mechanic, searching for an answer as to why the town car has suddenly decided not to start. Harvey looks down the street, his eyes searching for a cab. “It’s not your fault, Ray. I’ll catch a cab.”

A cab comes to a stop in the street next to him and Harvey opens the door and climbs in as he reassures Ray that yes, he’ll be able to make it to the courthouse on time. 

When he hangs up he opens his mouth to give the driver the address - 111 Centre Street - when he notices the man sitting next to him, eyebrow raised.

The cab hadn’t pulled over then - it had simply stopped for a red light.

The man is handsome, well dressed, fit. And he has an intriguing glint in his eye Harvey would like to explore a little more. See if he can make it sparkle. A shame Harvey’s on his way to court. That only gives him a few minutes. Hardly enough time for his best. 

The cabbie is looking back at them through the rear view mirror with interest, so Harvey puts his most charming smile on, slips off his sunglasses so he can look the other man in the eye.

“Do you mind if we share? If I jump out now and try to grab another cab, I’ll be late for court.”

The man considers him a moment, then nods. “I’m heading that way anyway.”

“Thanks.”

He nods again. “So, what did you do?”

He grins. The man grins back. Harvey feels that grin like a spark, igniting in his gut. “I’m the lawyer, not the client.”

Harvey leans a little into the space between them, the man counters by leaning in toward Harvey. The interest is clear, the air getting heavier between them, when they’re startled by the cab driver announcing they’ve arrived at Harvey’s stop.

Harvey pays for the cab, slides out of the car, slips his sunglasses back on. The man follows him, stands, and Harvey smiles as he slips his hand inside his suit coat and brings out a business card. “I’m Harvey, and I’d love to take you to dinner.”

“Mike. Friday, Eight PM. You didn’t have to pay for the cab.”

“My pleasure. How do you feel about Thai?”

“Love it.”

“Good.”

Harvey spins with a grin, strides into the courthouse with purpose, smiling at the guards as he walks through security, keeps his smile as he walks into the courtroom and sees Judge Waverly sitting behind her desk. She catches his eye, amused.

“Good morning, Harvey.”

“Good morning, ma'am.”

Harvey sets his briefcase down on the table just as he hears the doors to the courtroom open and close behind him. That would be Harrison, then.

“Good morning, Mike.”

“Good morning, judge.”

_Mike?_

Harvey turns his head. Mike is grinning at him. _Mike_ is Mike Ross, Harrison’s precious brilliant protégé. The wunderkind. Youngest junior partner in his firm’s history. 

It only intrigues Harvey more.

“Winner pays for dinner on Friday?”

Harvey grins. 

“You’re on.”


	58. Chapter 58

It was all a joke. A ridiculous joke he made once, in passing, meant to make Mike smile. Meant to make light of a difficult situation that they both willingly signed up for, even though Harvey knew deep down it couldn’t stay easy forever. It couldn’t last. 

Which is why, even if he half thought it ridiculous at the time, Harvey made plans. Lots of plans.

It’ll be hard to leave Marcus behind, to leave the city that’s as much a lover as it is a part of him behind. He’s worked so hard for the life he has now, and it’ll hurt to leave that behind too. But this is for Mike, and Mike is more important than anything, than anyone.

He was supposed to be a way for Harvey to conquer the world, and instead he finds himself giving up everything.

Harvey doesn’t say they’re friends, because that’s the smallest part of who they are. Mike wasn’t supposed to matter this much, but he does, and Harvey wouldn’t lift a finger to change that now, even if it were possible. Mike is the world entire, and he deserves nothing less than everything Harvey can give him.

He’ll start with a couple one way tickets to Buenos Aires.


	59. Chapter 59

Mike quits one day, without warning.

Harvey learns the news from Jessica, who calls him into her office, hands him a file on a new client, and tells him to pick someone from the associate pool for help because, as of last night, Mike Ross is no longer available.

He can’t get much else out of her, other than Mike made an appointment with her last night, and asked to be let out of his contract immediately. 

She looks relieved as she delivers the news, and as angry as he is, he can’t blame her for that.

Harvey has Donna call a random from the associate pool, hands over the file and tells the skittish associate not to fuck it up. Donna gives him a look of sympathy he doesn’t want, and when she opens her mouth to speak, he cuts her off with an acidic, “Don’t.”

With every new case he picks a new associate, until eventually none of them will come when Donna calls, and Donna walks into his office, slaps a piece of paper down on his desk, and tells him to “fix his shit. Now.”

Mike’s new apartment is in Manhattan, just a few blocks from Harvey’s. The building has a doorman, elevators - it’s a definite upgrade from Mike’s bohemian Brooklyn third floor walk up. Harvey pauses outside his door, shifts when he hears Mike’s bright laughter come from inside, followed by garbled words.

Harvey knocks and the door swings open, Mike laughing as he juggles a wallet in one hand, a giggling baby braced snugly in his other arm.

Mike’s face drops. It stings more than Harvey would admit, especially since he’s been avoiding Mike’s calls, his texts, his emails since he up and quit without telling Harvey. 

He has…a _baby_.

“She’s mine.”

Harvey nods. The baby’s focus is fixed on him, and her head bobs as she reaches out an unsteady, chubby hand for him. He holds out his hand and she grasps at his fingers, batting at them. He smiles, despite himself, and she squeals and bounces in her dad’s embrace.

“She likes you.”

“Babies like everyone.”

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask where she came from, who her mother is - he would have noticed if Rachel Zane had suddenly started wearing maternity by Prada - but he bites it down. It doesn’t matter where she came from. She’s here, and she’s Mike’s, and that’s all Harvey needs to know.

“I’m not coming back.”

Harvey looks away from the baby. “I’m not here to ask you to come back.”

The tension falls away from Mike and he asks, a little too weary for Harvey’s liking, “Then why are you here, Harvey?”

Harvey sighs, corners of his mouth twitching in weary amusement. “I’m sorry I blew you off.”

Mike pauses, considers him, then smiles a little and nudges the door open with his foot. He gestures with a jerk of the head for Harvey to come in and he does, stepping into a surprisingly large, open apartment. It’s pre war, more Mike’s style than Harvey’s, but warm, inviting. There are toys and chunky baby books on a pink and yellow blanket in the middle of the living room, obviously the baby’s, and on the fireplace, pictures of Grammy and Mike, Jenny and Mike, Mike and the baby. 

Mike and Harvey.

“Her name is Ellery.”

Harvey turns, looks at him. “She’s the reason you quit.”

“I want to watch her grow up, not hand her off to a nanny all day every day.”

Of course he doesn’t. Harvey would think less of him if he did.

Mike goes to say something else when there’s a knock at the door. Harvey reaches for Ellery without thinking, and Mike pauses briefly before handing her over and heading for the door.

Harvey bounces her a little in his arms, and she looks up at him, wide-eyed and intrigued, lights bouncing in her eyes. She reaches hands up and pats at his mouth and he nibbles at her fingers, making exaggerated cartoon munching sounds. She squeals, delighted, and leans in, bumping their noses together. Harvey grins, kisses her forehead.

When he looks up Mike is standing in the center of the room, watching him intensely. He sucks in a breath, finally, asks, “Do you want to stay for dinner?”

Harvey was thinking he’d stay forever.

But they can start with dinner.


	60. Chapter 60

Mike’s head shoots up, his eyes go wide, his heart starts beating a nervous tattoo against his rib cage. He stares at Louis, stomach twisting itself into knots as his hand clenches next to his thigh, fingernails cutting crescent moons into his palm.

It’s a fair question - in the context of the mock trial it’s a fair question - and as absolutely terrified and pissed off as Mike is right now, he knows that. But Louis is an asshole for asking, and Mike is never going to forgive him for that. If Mike loves Harvey it’s Mike’s business and Mike’s alone, not even Harvey gets to lay claim to that. And Louis putting it out there for everyone to know eliminates any chance Mike had of telling Harvey himself.

It makes Mike feel sick, that someone would take that from him.

Harvey means everything to him, and if he wasn’t ready to tell him that, _he wasn’t ready_. But Louis has forced his hand, and now there’s nothing he can do about it but be honest. Harvey would never perjure himself, and Mike won’t either.

Not even if Harvey wants nothing to do with him after.

Mike’s gotten used to carrying his love inside of him, tempering it whenever Harvey was around so it wouldn’t come shining out of him at the slightest provocation, at the slightest crinkle of Harvey’s eyes or playful touch. Now he guesses he’s going to have to get used to being bared in front of everyone. He wonders how Louis would react if Mike stood up and told everyone the secret most likely to shatter his world.

Because Mike could live, he could survive, if everyone knew he wasn’t a lawyer, that he hadn’t graduated from Harvard Law just like the rest of them. But living without Harvey is something he can’t imagine.

But thanks to Louis, he might have to.

“Well? Mr. Ross, we’re waiting.”

Mike catches Harvey’s watchful eye, swallows hard, and hopes his world isn’t about to come crashing down around him.

“Yes. I’m in love with Harvey.”


	61. Chapter 61

Harvey reaches out, frowns when his hand meets cooling sheets instead of warm skin. His hand searches around for a moment, finding nothing, before his eyes flutter open and he shifts, leaning his weight onto his left forearm as he looks into the bathroom. Mike’s not there either.

But he was, and recently, judging by the fogged up mirror and the woodsy smell of Harvey’s shampoo lingering in the warm, moist air coming out of the bathroom. Mike’s clothes are still strewn across the bedroom floor from the early hours of the morning, when he stripped down out of his suit and into some of Harvey’s clothes, practically collapsing into bed, curling himself around his pillow.

Harvey had been a little slower, a little more precise, and when he finally slipped into bed he could only manage to keep his eyes open long enough to pull Mike to him, to situate them just the way Harvey wanted. 

A shuffling outside the bedroom door calls Harvey’s attention, and he looks up to see Mike walking into the bedroom in Harvey’s borrowed clothes, tray full of food balanced in his arms. Harvey sits up against the headboard, gives Mike a sleepy, content smile as Mike sets the tray down on top of the duvet and sits down, cross-legged, his knee pressed against Harvey’s thigh.

Mike holds out a mug of coffee to him. “I made breakfast.”

“So I see.”

Mike gives him a little smile, picks up a piece of melon with his fingers and pops it into his mouth as Harvey takes a sip of his coffee, made just the way Mike knows he likes it. They eat, and at some point Harvey turns on MLB network, and watches the recaps from the games the night before. Mike pulls out the Times crossword and a pen and starts filling in answers between bites of toast and sips of juice, and Harvey lets his hand rest on Mike’s thigh, idly strokes, and tries to ignore the crumbs Mike is probably leaving in the bed that became theirs the minute Mike spent his first night there.

Harvey’s hand travels to Mike’s other thigh, slips up his hip and curls around, stroking the bare skin exposed by a t-shirt that’s ridden up. Mike makes a little noise of contentment Harvey’s pretty sure is subconscious, and Harvey leans in, kisses him. Mike meets his eyes, smiles, chases the kiss with one of his own before looking back down at his crossword.

Harvey’s so _fucking happy_ , and he can’t believe he waited so long for this, was so unsure about what his life with Mike could be like. Not when he knows what he knows now.

“Mike?”

Mike hums, looks up. Smiles at him, soft and sure.

“Zenith.”

Mike’s eyebrows draw together. “What?”

“Seven down.”

Mike looks down, laughs, says, “Thanks,” and scribbles in the word.

Harvey watches him, affection threatening to brim over when Mike wrinkles his nose, taps the paper with the cap of the pen. This is what Harvey wants, every morning. 

Even if it means crumbs in the bed.


	62. Chapter 62

Harvey would never tell Mike this, not even under penalty of disbarment, but he does hold a certain amount of affection for Mike’s unheated in the winter, hot as balls in the summer, third floor walk up.

They’ve had some good memories there. Late nights with Thai and sweaty bottles of beer leaking condensation on Mike’s second hand coffee table, early mornings in the shower, too sleepy to do anything but let their hands wander a little halfheartedly to help clean body parts they now know as well as their own. Stolen afternoons, away from the office, where they can get work done with fewer interruptions. Stolen afternoons, away from the office, where the only work they accomplish is Harvey figuring out a new way to make Mike come undone.

There are fewer pretenses in Brooklyn than there are in Manhattan, and Harvey has enjoyed the lazy Sunday afternoons they spent there together, strolling through Mike’s neighborhood, wandering into the second hand bookstore just down the street, buying organic croissants and fair trade coffee in the bakery a few steps away. But much as Harvey treasures those lazy days off, it’s not where Mike belongs anymore.

Just as Harvey doesn’t belong in his apartment anymore.

Harvey will always love his place with it’s sky high ceilings and priceless views of the city he fell in love with before he even understood what that meant, but it holds too many reminders of others, of a life before Mike. And they both deserve better than that. They deserve somewhere that’s theirs, somewhere without the ghosts of former lovers and traitorous friends roaming the halls.

Harvey never thought he’d give his place up, not really. He thought he’d be there forever. But it’s just a place, and Mike is so much more than that.

Sometimes our definitions of forever change.


	63. Chapter 63

Harvey’s comfortable with the concept of sharing. He has a younger brother, he graduated from kindergarten, he had a college roommate that epitomized the concept of “caring is sharing”.

Harvey is not comfortable with usurpers. 

Charlie came into Harvey’s life drenched and trembling in Mike’s arms on a late November night six months ago, Mike’s eyes extra big and pleading. His building wouldn’t let him have a pet, but Harvey’s would.

Harvey sighs as he steps into the living room and sees Charlie, comfortably nestled up against Mike’s outstretched legs on Harvey’s end of the couch. Charlie sleeps. A lot. Usually in Harvey’s spaces, sometimes on the warm hardwood floor near the windows when the sun is streaming in, never in the spaces Mike has claimed as his. Harvey has, by now, given up on telling Charlie what he can and can’t do, which spots are his, and which spots aren’t. It’s a useless endeavor.

He’s a lot like Mike in that way, which makes sense, because Charlie adores Mike and tolerates Harvey.

He seems to have a sixth sense for knowing when Mike will be stopping by, and he’ll sit at attention in front of the door for ten minutes, waiting to see him walk into the apartment, whimpering softly until he appears with a grin. He’s as reliable as Swiss watch.

When Mike is around, Charlie is loving, playful, _happy_. Harvey knows the feeling. But Mike still goes home most nights, leaving behind a sullen Charlie, who immediately decides the way to handle his frustration is by sleeping in Harvey’s bed.

On his pillow.

This has to stop.

“Mike?”

Mike mumbles a reply, tilts his head back to look over the back of the couch toward Harvey. He smiles a little, head cushioned on the arm stretched behind his head, and reaches out his other hand to scratch at Charlie’s back. Charlie lifts his head, grins, pants in Mike’s direction. That just spurs Harvey on, makes this easier. They’re miserable without him there, every night. Harvey’s tired of Mike calling somewhere else home, and he could ask Charlie, but he’s pretty sure the mutt would agree. Mike is the one thing they agree on.

“Move in with us. Charlie’s miserable without you.”

Mike’s smile softens. “And you?”

Harvey smiles. “What do you think?”


	64. Chapter 64

Harvey stops, stares.

He knows what Mike wants to hear, what he wants Harvey to tell him, but Harvey doesn’t have the words for this. He can’t make things better, even though he wants to, even though he’d do just about anything to never have to see Mike looking so young and so lost ever again.

Harvey’s pretty words aren’t enough for something like this.

“Come on,” he says softly, motioning with a jerk of the head for Mike to follow him. He knows Mike will, if only because Mike has followed this command a thousand times, and following it again will be easy when he wants someone else to steer him.

Mike follows with less enthusiasm than normal, less energy. When they reach Harvey’s office he sits on the couch, looks up at Harvey resignedly, ready, Harvey guesses, for whichever file, whichever client Harvey is about to drop in his lap. It makes Harvey’s stomach clench.

Harvey grabs his sunglasses off his desk and motions with his head for Mike to follow him, and Mike gets up, confused. Harvey leads him downstairs then outside, down the steps to the street, doesn’t say a word as he hails a cab. When Harvey holds the door open for him, he slides in without question, but he only seems to relax when Harvey gives him a smile.

The cab drops them off at Yankee stadium. Harvey has season tickets he doesn’t get to use as often as he’d like, but today seems like the perfect day. 

Harvey buys him food, whatever he thinks Mike will like, and Mike eats all of it, refusing Harvey nothing. The game isn’t anything special, but they both strip off their coats, roll up their sleeves, loosen their ties. Mike blinks up into the sun, and Harvey can only watch the squint for so long before he buys Mike a hat, pulling it down over his head with a grin.

There’s a little girl there with her mother, sitting two rows in front of them, and she spends half of the game turned around in her seat, watching Mike with her chin braced on the tops of her hands, clasped over her seat back. Mike tries to smile at her, but it’s not real, just a shade of his normal smile, the one that tells Harvey all is right.

Harvey slips his hand across the back of Mike’s seat, reaches up to grip the back of Mike’s neck, starts rubbing his skin softly with his thumb. Mike relaxes into his hand, and gives Harvey a tentative smile. Harvey smiles softly back.

This time, when Mike smiles at the little girl, it’s a lot more honest. She turns around in her seat, satisfied.

When the game is over, Harvey takes Mike to the movies. They share popcorn and soda, and Mike even laughs a few times, something Harvey encourages with another hand to his neck.

After the movie is dinner, an out of the way burger restaurant Harvey knew Mike would like. And he’s right, if the way Mike practically inhales his dinner is any indication. At one point a guy walking back from the bathroom takes a look at Mike’s hat and chants, “Go Yankees!”, and Mike returns his fist bump halfheartedly. Harvey doesn’t laugh.

Mike never asks Harvey to take him home, so Harvey doesn’t. He leads Mike into his house, flipping the lights on in his dark condo. Harvey goes to change and Mike slumps down in his couch, which is where Harvey finds him a few minutes later, feet up on the coffee table. Harvey pushes his head forward, asks him if he was born in a barn, and drops some clothes on Mike’s lap as Mike pulls his feet off the coffee table. Mike looks up at him and Harvey nods with his head toward the bedroom.

While Mike’s gone, Harvey flips the TV on, scrolls quickly through the channels, and when he decides there’s nothing on he really has any interest in watching, puts in a movie. Mike settles down in the couch next to him in Harvey’s borrowed clothes, the hat still on his head.

“Another movie okay?”

Mike nods, quickly, easily, and Harvey can see he’s a little relieved. 

When he starts to nod off, about halfway into the movie, Harvey bids Mike good night, and heads off to bed. He’s just settling in, getting ready to turn off the light, when Mike appears in the doorway. He just looks at him, looking a little lost and far too young in that damn hat, in Harvey’s clothes, and Harvey only takes a second before motioning him inside, pulling back the covers.

Mike pauses before walking forward slowly, sitting down on the bed and pulling the hat off to set on the nightstand before laying down, turning to face Harvey.

In the morning, when Harvey wakes up, Mike will be so close he can feel his breath on his cheek. Harvey will have an arm wrapped around him, and Mike’s face will finally look untroubled. And the Yankees hat will still be sitting on the nightstand.

Mike will wear it again at another game, a week later. Harvey will sit with his arm around Mike for the entire game, and when Mike sees the same little girl from a week before he gives her a big smile and buys her cotton candy with Harvey’s money.

Mike doesn’t go home that night either.


	65. Chapter 65

Mike didn’t see it coming. But then, he thinks, probably no one did.

He packs what he can into his backpack, sets off on his bike down the street, past his elderly neighbor ripping into a cabbie’s neck and wonders how his life became a video game, how it became a monster movie where all the monsters are people he knows.

Manhattan is a mess, and Mike knows he should be going away from the city, not toward, but Harvey. He needs to get to Harvey.

Mike thinks briefly of Trevor, remembers the times they got high in the early hours of the morning and talked about ridiculous things. What you’d take to a desert island, which celebrity you’d fuck if you got the chance, how you’d do in a zombie apocalypse.

He wonders if Trevor is already gone, or if he’s still alive out there somewhere. It’s only been three days since the first reported death. Maybe he’s okay. Or maybe he went out with a bang, like he always claimed he would. He never wanted anything to do with a zombie apocalypse. What would be the point in surviving, he’d said, if everyone you knew was gone?

Mike brains a zombie at the entrance to Harvey’s building. She looks vaguely familiar until he realizes it’s that Freshman at NYU who lives with her parents in the building - lived with her parents, shit - that he said hello to just last week in the elevator. He’d helped her with her Greek history paper. She’d called him her hero. He looks down at her and swallows before tearing his eyes away and running up the stairs with his bike.

He doesn’t even remember her name. Angie? He thinks that was it.

When he reaches Harvey’s floor he runs by doors left open to deserted apartments, their occupants gone in most cases, one lying dead in a doorway in another. Mike ignores him, moves on to Harvey’s closed door at the end of the hall. He has to stop looking for faces in the dead.

Mike pounds Harvey’s door with his fist, praying he isn’t gone, that he hasn’t left Mike behind. That he’s still alive.

He can’t think like that.

But his knocking is met with only silence, and he doesn’t dare knock again or call out, in case there are zombies nearby to hear. Mike rests his forehead against Harvey’s door, closes his eyes, breathes deep. He’ll just sit here for a moment. Just one. And then he’ll figure out what to do, where to go.

Just a moment.

The door is pulled open with a jerk and Mike steps back, blinks as he’s pulled inside the condo, as the door is shut and locked behind him. Harvey’s hands run over his body, lift up his shirt, check his back and upper arms and chest. Mike lets him, leans into the touch, and when Harvey’s done, he starts breathing a little easier, pulls Mike into his arms. Mike holds on, doesn’t let go. He doesn’t say he thought Harvey was gone, thought he’d left Mike behind.

Harvey lets him go and picks up the bags sitting by the sofa, waiting there like Harvey had just been waiting for Mike. Harvey hands him one and Mike takes it, clutches it. “Harvey-”

“We have to get on the road.”

Mike nods, hesitantly, and Harvey herds him out the door, takes one more look at his condo then closes the door behind him. Locks it up tight. Maybe there’s a chance they’ll be able to come back one day, that it will still be here, unsullied, waiting for them to resume their lives. Maybe.

Harvey drives and Mike doesn’t ask where they’re going. They stop for gas in some small town upstate, and Mike isn’t careful enough - stupid, _stupid_ \- and gets cornered in the bathroom. He hits his head on the sink and falls back, dazed. Hands scramble and tug at his leg, drag him across the bathroom floor, and his head bangs against the floor. Mike cries out, tries to push them off as he begins to pull himself up Mike’s body. The scent of decay is overwhelming, and Mike screams out Harvey’s name over and over and over again.

Then the weight is gone, and Mike scrambles back on the dirty tile floor and watches, clutching the back of his head, as Harvey hits the zombie who used to be a man over and over with a baseball bat.

Mike stares at him and Harvey stares back, then he strides across the room, crouches down, pulls away Mike’s hand and gently probes the wound. He looks hesitantly down Mike’s body then seems to give in, and runs his hands over Mike again, checking every piece of exposed skin.

“He didn’t bite me.”

Harvey’s hands are gentle but unrelenting, and Mike shuts up, lets him check him over. He doesn’t want to ask what Harvey would do if he found a bite, a scratch. He doesn’t want Harvey to have to tell him. 

There’s a cabin, up north, that used to be Harvey’s father’s. It’s deep in the woods, remote, and it hasn’t been used in years. They secure it and then Mike makes them dinner from the food in both of their bags while Harvey cleans out the wound on Mike’s head. They turn the battery operated radio on and hear nothing but static, and they let the white noise play for a few minutes, hoping they’ll hear something on the other end. When they go to bed, Harvey pulls him down into the same bed and they sleep with their clothes on.

They don’t see another zombie for a few days, and this one has a face Mike doesn’t recognize. He’s grateful. It’s a little easier when you don’t know the person you’re killing.

Mike drops the bat and feels Harvey’s arms wrap around him from behind, his breath on Mike’s cheek. He doesn’t say anything.

There’s nothing to say.


	66. Chapter 66

The response is immediate, cacophonous. The sea of reporters shout, raise their hands, clamor for his attention. Desperate to be the one with their name attached to the only question on everyone’s minds.

“Governor! Governor!”

Harvey takes his time choosing, lets them call, lets them beg. This is his moment, and it’s too important to throw away. He needs to say it, and he needs to be understood completely. Finally he calls on Vanessa Porter, a columnist for the New York Times. She’s always been fair, reasoned. She’s the right person to call on.

Off to the side, Donna tenses. She’d told him it was the wrong time. That she understood, but maybe it was something to be shelved for after they’d won, for after Harvey was already calling the Oval Office home. She wanted to do a poll, run some numbers. As if Harvey’s sexuality should ever be the subject of a poll. She didn’t understand, couldn’t possibly. 

He can’t lie about this, not anymore. 

“Governor, you have a sizable lead in the polls. Some pundits are already saying the presidency is all but assured. Coming out now, you risk losing everything.”

Harvey smiles. “I don’t believe there’s a question in there, Vanessa.”

Soft laughter ripples through the crowd.

She smiles a little. “Why come out now? Why risk everything?”

Harvey thinks back to the first time he met Mike, to his brilliant smile and the way he’d impressed Harvey with his even more brilliant brain. He thinks back to campaign trips, late nights and early mornings spent brainstorming, spent going over strategy. Giving up and watching movies when it got to be too much, when they needed to decompress. Falling in love with him state by state, until he can’t remember when Mike was anything less than vital.

Maybe he’ll slip in the polls and never recover. But Harvey doesn’t want to gain the presidency on an assumption, and spend his entire tenure hiding Mike, like he’s a skeleton in Harvey’s closet.

They both deserve better than that.

“It is a risk, but if there’s anything Americans value, it’s taking risks. I won’t rehash your fifth grade history class, but it’s safe to say most Americans are descended from people who took huge risks, because they wanted a better life. One day, the sexuality of a candidate won’t even enter into the conversation. But that day’s not today.”

Harvey looks directly into the camera in front of him.

“So just to be perfectly clear, my name is Harvey Specter, I’m the Democratic candidate for the next President of the United States, and I’m gay.”


	67. Chapter 67

“Good morning.”

Harvey turns, smiles at the man - _Mike_ , he’d told Harvey in between kisses last night, over and over and over, _my name is_ Mike _…kiss…Mike…kiss…Mike_ , as if Harvey would let his name skip his attention. He’s standing in the doorway, sheet wrapped around his waist, clutched at his side in one fist.

“Good morning.”

He yawns and then flushes a little, and Harvey watches the flush creep down his skin. He wonders how far down it extends.

“Your view is amazing.”

“Thank you. It should be, I paid enough for it.”

Mike steps out onto the patio. “Didn’t really get a chance to see it last night.”

Harvey smirks. “No, you didn’t.”

He was deliciously responsive last night, very vocal. And his mouth was both creative and filthy. If only Harvey had the time to spend on that mouth this morning. 

“So I have work this morning.”

“That explains the suit.”

Mike boldly reaches forward and takes Harvey’s coffee out of his hand, grinning at Harvey over the top of the cup as he takes a sip.

Harvey hums, steps forward, slips a hand over Mike’s ribs and down his back, pulls him forward against his body. “What are you doing tonight?”

Mike sucks in a breath as Harvey’s hand slips into the cleft of his ass. “No plans.”

Harvey’s other hand rips the sheet away, exposing Mike to half of Manhattan, squeezes his ass, kisses him until he’s breathless, until Mike is so needy for his kisses he chases Harvey’s mouth when he pulls away.

Harvey steps back, says, “Good.”

Mike blinks. “Good?”

Harvey takes his mug back, takes a sip. “Yes, good. I’m taking you to dinner.”

“Are you?”

Harvey smiles. “I am.”

“You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

“Seven thirty. Antonelli’s. Don’t be late.”

Harvey steps away, into the condo.

“And if I am?”

Harvey turns, takes in Mike standing naked on his patio, the sheet pooled at his feet, his peaches and cream skin lit up by the rising sun, and nearly calls in for the day. Maybe he can convince Mike to turn tonight’s dinner into a long weekend. He wants him, in a way he hasn’t wanted anyone in a very long time.

Mike could be the end of him.

“I’m sure I can come up with a suitable punishment.”


	68. Chapter 68

“Mike…you _can’t_.”

Harvey can’t even look at him, and he turns away, looking anywhere else instead.

“Why not?”

He _knows_ why not, he knows and he’s being deliberately obtuse. It’s such bullshit, all of it, but there’s nothing Harvey can do. He has no power here, not in this. Mike knows that, and he’s stubbornly going to make Harvey say it anyway.

The words taste like ash, and he spits them out as he spins, meets Mike’s stupidly stubborn face. “Because you're _dead_." 

He shakes his head. "No…no, we don’t know that.”

“Yes, Mike, we do. You’re a ghost. No one else can see or hear you. What other explanation can there be?”

Harvey has gone over absolutely everything else it could be in the three weeks since Mike first showed up, confused, in Harvey’s apartment, as if he belonged there. But none of the possible explanations actually made any sense, and Mike’s been very little help anyway. All he’s ever been able to remember is his first name, something about a needlework panda, and that the last thing he remembers is having to be somewhere important. 

Mike is a ghost, and just when Harvey realized he had fallen for him, that’s when he started to fade away, little by little. Harvey doesn’t have the heart to tell Mike this, or maybe he doesn’t have the stomach. He’s being selfish, probably, in not telling him, but he can’t stand to have their last days together eclipsed by the looming shadow of Mike’s disappearance.

He’s in love with a fucking ghost.

“There has to be something else we haven’t tried.”

Harvey sighs. “Mike-”

“No. Harvey, _there has to be_.”

Fine. He’ll play along. “Are you sure there isn’t anything else you remember? A face, a name, where you work, where you live?”

They’ve gone over all this before. Multiple times.

Mike paces. “Just that panda…thing…” Harvey nods. Not helpful. “…my name…” Also not helpful. “…the name Marcus…”

Harvey stops. “What? You never mentioned that.”

“Well, it’s not mine, I knew that. I just…don’t know what it means. Maybe I have a brother?”

Or maybe Harvey does.

It could just be a coincidence. That’s probably all it is.

Marcus picks up on the third ring.

“Marcus…that guy you wanted me to meet, the one who never showed up? What was his name?”

“Mike…Mike Ross. Shit, it’s so tragic. Jesus, you guys would’ve been so perfect together.”

Harvey clenches the phone in his hand. “What’s so tragic?”

Harvey makes Marcus tell him twice, just to be sure he heard him right the first time, Mike’s eyes intent on him the whole time.

“Do you have a picture of him?”

Marcus sends through the picture and Harvey feels his heart clench in his chest. 

Mike’s tentative, “Harvey?” brings him back to attention and he looks up, flips his phone around to show Mike.

“Your name is Mike Ross, you work with my brother Marcus. We were supposed to meet one night, but you had an accident.”

Mike takes the phone, stares at the picture of him and Marcus on the screen and breathes out, “That was the something important. I had a date with you.” He swallows, licks his lips. “So I _am_ dead.”

“No.”

Mike looks up, hopeful.

“You’re not. You’re in the intensive care unit at New York-Presbyterian. You’ve been in a coma for three weeks.”

“I’m alive?”

Harvey nods. “And I think it’s time you woke up."


	69. Chapter 69

Mike rubs at his palm with his thumb, traces ink too faded, lines that used to be joined, used to make sense. He scratches at his palm with his nail, sighs when all his skin does is whiten and then pink back up again. 

Mike had been so drunk, and Harvey was so gorgeous - Harvey, Mike repeats to himself, _Harvey_ , as if repeating the name will help him remember more than just Harvey’s breath on his skin, the crinkle at the corner of his eyes when Mike tripped, fell right into him. As if it will help him remember the seven simple numbers Harvey had written on the palm of Mike’s hand with a pen, borrowed from the bartender, because Mike had somehow misplaced his phone during his night. (Found later, in the jacket pocket of a bemused coworker/friend, when Mike called it Saturday afternoon.)

Most of what he remembers of Friday night/Saturday morning comes in vague snatches of information, little scenes that blink out as quickly as they come: stumbling out of the cab in front of his building, laughing when he nearly eats pavement. Throwing all the cash he had in his pocket in the hat of a talented street musician who serenaded Mike with a raunchy, brassy version of _Big Spender_. Flopping on his back on the grass somewhere in Central Park, staring up at the night sky, loving New York more than he ever has before.

And _Harvey_ , Harvey everywhere. Smiling, laughing, telling jokes and little stories Mike is sure were actually funny, and not just funny as a side effect of too much tequila.

At some point he stumbled into his shower and sang _Big Spender_ at the top of his lungs with the curtain still open, haphazardly soaping up his body, leaning up against the tile.

When he woke up the next morning he had the worst hangover of his life, a mouth that tasted strongly of roadkill, and a freshly scrubbed palm. Mike tried to remember the numbers Harvey had said in his ear, slowly, as he inscribed them in Mike’s palm, tries to remember them as well as he remembers the feel of Harvey’s grip on his waist, of his smile on the skin of Mike’s neck. Nothing.

He spent the rest of his weekend at home, recovering from his hangover, ignoring the work files on his kitchen table, trying to ignore Friday night. Trying to ignore his own stupidity. Trying to forget something he’s afraid he’ll never get again.

(He caved after thirty minutes, called the bar to speak to the bartender. It didn’t do any good.)

Mike got his phone back, immediately checked it to find no messages, no texts, and resolved not to check it at all the rest of the weekend.

(He failed at that too.)

When Monday came he went through the motions, and kept going through them on Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. Now it’s Friday, and Mike’s been sitting in the same spot since early afternoon, tracing the same non-existent, faded lines on his palm.

There’s a knock at the door and Mike stands with a sigh, scrubs his hand over his hair as he walks across the apartment, opening his front door.

Mike’s mouth drops open at the man standing on the other side, smiling at him. He breathes out, “Harvey.”

He looks like he’s come straight from work, jacket over his arm, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened. He's _beautiful_.

“Hi.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. “You didn’t call.”

Mike holds up his hand, palm out. “I washed my hand." 

Harvey just nods.

"How did you know where I lived? I thought I’d never- I thought you…”

“Someone had to make sure you made it home okay. You were having a hard time staying vertical.”

“You brought me home.” Harvey smiles. “But you didn’t stay. You could’ve stayed.”

“I didn’t want to take advantage.”

Mike should admire that, and he does, really, but he woke up with a hangover, _alone_. “I found my phone.”

Mike holds it up and Harvey takes it, types something in, hands it back.

_Harvey Specter. 212-753-8493_

Harvey picks a bag up off the ground at his feet, holds it up. “I brought Thai. And movies. You have beer?”

“ _Yeah_. Yes.”

“Good.” Harvey steps past him, into Mike’s apartment, and Mike closes the door behind them. He turns to see Harvey watching him, smiling. “You know, when I dropped you off last Friday, you asked me if I wanted to stay. Forever.”

Mike swallows. _Shit_. Jenny always used to tell him he was an uninhibited, honest drunk. That it might get him into trouble one day.

“Is that offer still on the table?”


	70. Chapter 70

“A briefcase.” Emmett blinks. “Full of pot.”

Miranda’s eyebrows couldn’t go further up into her hairline if she tried. “Daddy pretended to be someone else?”

Harvey nods, crosses his legs. “He was running from the cops.”

“He was running.” Emmett blinks again. “From the cops.”

Miranda sighs and rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Try to keep up, Emmett.”

Emmett stares off into the distance, wide-eyed, and says softly, “So much future ammunition.”

“So what happened then?”

“Your dad showed me how different he was from everyone else.” He can see they don’t understand, so he says, “Your dad woke me up from a rut I didn’t even know I was in. He made the world open up.”

“So it was love at first sight?”

Emmett snorts. “It was _something_ at first sight.”

She slaps him across the back of the head. “Ugh. Don’t be gross.”

Harvey smiles mildly. “Don’t hit your brother.”

They all turn their heads when they hear the front door open, and Mike walks in, carrying canvas bags full of groceries in each hand. He sets the bags down on the kitchen counter and walks into the living room. Harvey tilts his head back over the back of his chair and steals a kiss.

“Hey, family. What are we up to?”

“Dad’s telling us the story of how you met.”

Mike sits down on the arm of Harvey’s chair. “Did he tell you the part about how I was running from the cops with a briefcase full of pot and pretended to be someone else?”

“Yep.”

“And the part about how I dazzled him with my giant Einstein brain?”

Harvey looks up at him, amused and fond. “Is that what you did?”

Mike looks down at him, leans in close. Harvey’s hand curls around his hip. “I blew your _mind_.”

They kiss and Miranda grins, crosses her legs on the sofa underneath her, props her elbow on her thigh, her chin on her fist. “I think that part was next.”

Emmett shakes his head at her. “You’re such a sap.”

“How can you not be? Like, if one thing had gone wrong that day, _one thing_ , we don’t exist.” She gestures between them. “It was an impossibly tiny window of time, and _they made it_. How does that not blow your mind?”

Emmett’s always been a little more skeptical, like Harvey. Steadfast to the point of stubbornness. But there’s always been one person who can talk him into changing his mind: their passionate, heart-on-her-sleeve Miranda. Mike’s baby, through and through.

And that’s what he does, conceding with a gentle shove of his sister’s shoulder.

“So what happened next?”

Harvey looks up at Mike, smiles as Mike runs his fingers through Harvey’s hair.

Everything. That’s what happened next.

This was going to be a long story.


	71. Chapter 71

It was a stupid idea. _Stupid_.

But he’d thought… They’d been spending so much time together, and having a great time. Harvey was _laughing_. He seemed happy. Happy to be there, with Mike. Even with all the bullshit going on with work, they’d made it work. They’d _figured it out_.

Or he thought they had. Mike knows how Harvey looks at him, _everyone_ knows. Or maybe they’re all wrong, they’ve all been seeing things. Because if this is what Mike gets for going out on a limb, for taking a chance, he wonders why anyone ever tries.

He just wanted to surprise him. But seeing Harvey laughing, standing intimately close to someone else, seeing him look at this other man the way Harvey is supposed to only look at _Mike_ , it feels like a punch to the gut.

Mike backs away slowly through the darkened offices, pauses in front of his old cubicle. Everything used to be so simple, so easy. But now everything is different and Mike _hates_ it. He hates it _so fucking much_.

It feels like he can’t catch his breath, like he never will again. This hurts, it hurts so, so bad. He’s in _agony_.

So this is what falling in love is?

Love can go fuck itself.


	72. Chapter 72

It’s been close to four years since they last saw each other, and he’s just as beautiful as ever.

_Christ_.

He’s older, which Harvey knows is to be expected, but still makes him ache something fierce. It’s a terrible, heavy thing, looking at someone you love, someone you haven’t seen in years because _you_ let them walk away, and wondering if there’s someone else who’s supplanted you. If there’s someone else out there who wasn’t as arrogant, wasn’t as foolish. Someone who knew that what Mike was giving - his trust, his loyalty, his affection, his respect, his love - was too precious to ever throw away.

Not like Harvey, who had it granted to him so easily, he came to expect it as some sort of right. He was never going to lose it, because it was his.

Mike looks at him, warily, strap of his leather bag held tight in his right fist. It’s the same leather bag he had slung over his chest his first day at Pearson Hardman, and that gives Harvey the slightest spark of courage. Maybe not everything about Mike has changed.

He doesn’t say anything - maybe he’s waiting for Harvey to decide where this conversation is going to go. And that’s fair. Harvey is at Mike’s mercy here, and he knows it. If he’s going to get Mike back his pride needs to take a back seat. He knows what life is like without him, and that’s not a life he wants to lead anymore.

He was miserable.

“Hi.”

Mike’s response is hesitant, quiet. “Hi.”

“You look good.”

Mike ducks his head, looks down at the ground. “Thanks.”

“I heard you left Sidwell.”

Mike sighs. “That was three years ago, Harvey.”

Harvey nods. He knows that, knew it three years ago when Donna told him as she was leaving work for the night. He sat there, in his quiet, dark office, and almost called Mike. But he didn’t. And he’s paying for it. Has _been_ paying for it for too long.

“Can I take you to lunch?”

Mike pauses. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“Please.” It’s all Harvey has. That, and, “I’m sorry.”

Mike eyes him. “Are you?”

Harvey decides to go for absolute, unshielded honesty. All he has to lose is Mike, and that’s someone Harvey doesn’t even have right now. “I was an asshole. I hurt you, and I hurt myself in the process, and I’ve been too arrogant to apologize to you, like I should have. To make things right, if that’s possible. I’m sorry, Mike.” He swallows. “There is no one in my life I’ve ever trusted more, relied on more, or cared more for, and I took that for granted.”

Mike looks away a minute then laughs, suddenly. It startles Harvey a little but he stands his ground, eyes searching Mike’s face for any clue to his mindset.

Mike says, “You’re still so damn good at your job. I mean, I didn’t expect that to change, but…it’s comforting to know. Even if I’m the one being closed.”

Harvey is suddenly appalled. “Mike, that wasn’t my intention at all. _Jesus_.”

“You can buy me lunch.”

If this is just Mike giving up, Harvey doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want that at _all_. “Mike-”

“I missed you too.” It comes out in a rush and he swallows, looks down at his feet. “These last four years have really sucked without you.” He looks up again, and the headlights of a passing car reflect in his eyes, making them shine. “I didn’t call either. I could have.”

He breathes deeply, like it’s something he hasn’t been able to do in a long time. Harvey knows the feeling.

“I mean, what do you do when you rely on this anchor to keep you moored and then suddenly it isn’t there anymore?”

“I don’t know. But I’ve been asking myself the same question for the last four years.”

Mike stares at him and Harvey refuses to look away. It’s the least Mike deserves, the understanding that this is not a play, not some trick. Not a sleight of hand, designed to coerce Mike into anything. It’s the truth.

Mike squeezes his hand on the strap of his bag. “I started my own company.”

Harvey smiles, lets his pride leak into his voice. “Good for you.”

Mike nods, pleased at Harvey’s reaction. “Thanks. I need to hire a lawyer. Know any good ones?”

Harvey grins. “Maybe a few. We’ll set up a meeting.”

“Couldn’t we just talk about it over lunch?”

“No, not today.” Harvey slips his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been waiting a long time for this lunch. Work can wait. This lunch is for us.”


	73. Chapter 73

There’s a period of time where they don’t speak at all.

It’s achingly long, and Harvey hates every single moment of it, but Mike had looked so angry with him the last time they saw each other that he hasn’t pushed it. He’s kept his distance, hoping that Mike would eventually come around, that he wouldn’t be gone from Harvey’s life for good.

Mike does come around, finally, and in the end it only takes ten months, three weeks, and six days.

Harvey is just getting ready to sit down to dinner when there’s a knock at the door. He opens it to find Mike, clothes looking half slept in, leaning into the wall next to the door.

“Rachel broke up with me.”

Rachel Zane doesn’t exactly top the list of things Harvey wants to talk about, but it brought Mike to his door, and if Mike needs to talk about it, Harvey will give that to him.

“I’m sorry.”

Mike snorts. “No you’re not.”

“No,” He concedes. “I’m not. She was always wrong for you. I never made a secret of that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Mike shifts, looks at the floor with his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“Come inside.”

Mike looks up, hesitates, then nods.

Harvey motions him to sit at the counter, in front of a plate of pasta Harvey made himself for dinner. He pulls out another fork, another beer, pops the lid on the bottle and sets it down in front of Mike. Harvey sits down on the next stool, hands the fork over to Mike, who takes it, digs into the pasta.

They eat for a few minutes, in silence.

“You need a place to stay?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good. And that would be…” He shakes his head again. “I’m good.”

Mike twirls up the last of the pasta onto his fork and Harvey takes the plate, setting it in the sink. They drop down onto the couch and Harvey turns on HBO, and eventually he falls asleep to Mark Ruffalo chasing Jesse Eisenberg.

When he wakes up, Mike is gone, and the plate in the sink is clean.

Mike calls him four days later, when he’s in the middle of a big case, and much as Harvey wants to, he can’t make time to meet Mike for drinks. Harvey hates to say no, but there’s nothing to be done about it, so they tentatively agree to early the next week, and Harvey gets back to work.

It’s late when he hears a knock on his open door and looks up to see Mike standing in his doorway, plastic takeout bag in his hand. “I brought food.”

Harvey gives him a smile and Mike smiles back and it’s not quite like it used to be, but it’s closer than it’s been in a while.

Mike sits down on the sofa, sets a container in front of him, pulls off his coat and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt.

They don’t talk, just eat. Harvey respects that, doesn’t try to start a conversation Mike doesn’t want any part of. And when Mike picks up the trash and goes to leave, he says, “I’m looking for a new place.”

“Do you want a recommendation for a good agent? I know a few.”

“No, I’ve got one of those.” He looks away a moment, then looks back. “Can you free up some time next week?”

“You want me to go with you?”

He nods. “I’d like your opinion.”

Harvey is floored, to say the least. “I’ll make the time.”

Mike nods once before turning and leaving.

They see five apartments before Mike finds The One, a pre-war with huge windows, exposed brick, and an open kitchen. It’s a beautiful place, only a few blocks from Harvey, and Harvey gives his approval. Mike tells his agent to draw up the paperwork, and that’s that. 

The agent leaves them to call the seller’s agent and Harvey wanders over to the windows, looks out at the city. If he angles his body just right, he thinks he might be able to see his building.

“She was fucking some guy in her criminal law class.”

Harvey turns, finds Mike already looking at him.

“She said I was never there, that my mind was always with someone else.”

Harvey doesn’t know what to say to that.

“She wasn’t wrong.”

Mike finally looks away, toward the windows.

“This place gets amazing light, doesn’t it?”

Harvey helps Mike move in a month later, and Mike pays him back in pizza and beer.

The sex is a bonus.

The bed isn’t even set up yet, so they collapse on the floor in Mike’s bedroom doorway, Mike on top, taking control. Harvey curls a calf around the back of Mike’s thigh and a hand into his hair and moans into Mike’s mouth when Mike hits just the right angle.

Mike takes Harvey’s hand, guides it down his body until Harvey’s hand is cupping Mike’s ass, until the tips of his fingers are resting lightly inside the crease. Mike kisses him and Harvey pulls back, presses his fingers in a little, watches Mike’s eyelids flutter as he tosses his head back.

Harvey sits up, splays his other hand on Mike’s back and brings him up with him so he’s straddling Harvey’s lap. Mike finally makes eye contact and Harvey kisses him, soft, slow, sweet. Mike reaches down between them and takes them both in hand, rolling his hips as he grips the back of Harvey’s neck.

It’s been a year since Harvey’s life was upended, and just a few weeks since Mike knocked on his door and it started to right itself. But they’re both back now, together.

Where they belong.


	74. Chapter 74

Okay, so maybe it was a mistake. But Mike doesn’t really think so. Because maybe it was late, and maybe they’d had a little too much to drink, and maybe they were riding high on their epic win, and maybe they spend so much time together their blurred lines are looking increasingly less like actual _lines_ these days and more like _suggestions_ , but Mike keeps coming back to one very immutable fact.

Harvey initiated everything.

Before last night, Mike had never been with a man before. He’s had _urges_ , or _feelings_ , or whatever the hell else you want to call them, taken note of his own interest when passing a few guys on the street more than once, once in a locker room, and once at this party he went to his first year of college, where he couldn’t take his eyes off this guy named Ian. A senior, a swimmer, and every successive drink made another piece of clothing come off, until he was sitting there next to Mike in the tightest, tiniest pair of black briefs Mike had ever seen.

If he hadn’t basically fallen asleep on him, and if Mike hadn’t felt ridiculously grossed out about the prospect of taking advantage of someone who clearly couldn’t make their own decisions, Harvey might not have been his first and only.

So yeah, he’s had _feelings_ , he’s just never really given much thought to what they meant, or even remotely explored them, though before last night, no one had ever pushed the issue before. They’ve been more like abstract concepts for him. Could Mike be with a man and not have a massive freak out about it? Sure, why not. He’s a 1, maybe a 2 on the Kinsey scale.

Or, all of that was true until he lied about his name and dropped a briefcase full of pot on the floor of the Chilton Hotel in front of Harvey’s feet and started wondering if maybe he was more like a 4 instead because, holy crap, Mike’s abstract feelings suddenly weren’t so abstract anymore.

But then Harvey hired him, and that sort of threw a wrench into things, because even if Mike suddenly knew _exactly_ what he wanted Harvey to do to him, Harvey was now his boss, which made for some seriously murky waters.

He figures it out, mostly. It’s a necessity, and it’s not that hard to allow the feelings to resemble something like admiration and respect and a firm loyalty that make sense when you consider Harvey hired a con artist to be his associate and would be in some seriously deep shit if anyone ever found out. That’s the kind of thing that ties you to another person whether you want to be or not, although in Mike’s case, it’s not exactly a struggle.

So Mike is doing fine with this. Basically fine. Until Harvey pulled Mike into his lap last night and wouldn’t let him get up. (Not that Mike was complaining because, _fuck_. Mike’s changed his mind: he’s definitely a 4, and from here on out, Harvey can put his hands on Mike _however the hell he wants_. Or maybe he isn’t a 4. Maybe he’s still a Kinsey scale 1 or 2, but a hard, _hard_ , Harvey scale 6.)

And okay, Mike doesn't read people like Harvey does. But he doesn’t think that’s an entirely necessary skill, here. Harvey was projecting his feelings so cleanly last night, Mike had to have been a head trauma victim to miss them. But this morning he’s totally Mr. Closer, totally Mr. I-Don’t-Give-A-Crap, totally closed off.

And it’s not like Mike is expecting Harvey to drop to one knee and express his undying love or anything, but a little acknowledgment that they’d spent a good portion of last night with Harvey’s dick _inside Mike’s body_ and they’d both had a really fucking good time might be nice.

A little communication would be nice, is all he’s saying. And Mike’s neat little measured box of controlled feelings are too big and realized to actually go back into that little box. They’re just not going to fit anymore. 

“Last night…I can’t go back.”

“I don’t want you to.” He pauses, gives Mike one long, intense look. “If I didn’t want you, I wouldn’t have initiated it.”

“Jesus, you do give a shit.”

Harvey rolls his eyes so hard Mike can practically hear it, turns and walks away from him.

Mike scampers after him, says, “You loooooooooooooooove me.”

Mike’s never pretended not to be a little shit, and Harvey ignores him in favor of pushing open the door to the building.

It’s alright. They can work up to that.


	75. Chapter 75

“No.”

Rachel takes a step back, looking a little wounded. “That’s it? No?”

Mike nods. “No.”

She looks close to tears when she asks, “You’re just going to throw everything we had away?”

“I didn’t do that, Rachel. You did.”

Mike doesn’t _enjoy_ hurting her, he doesn’t _enjoy_ telling someone he loved - _loves_ \- that what they had is over. That he’s done. But it’s the truth. 

Mike is angry, and disappointed, and frustrated, but mostly he’s just sad over what they could have had, at what Rachel threw away so easily.

“You won’t even give me another chance.”

The tears are there now, brimming the corners of her eyes, but she’s gone from sad to angry, from open to closed off.

No, he’s not going to give her another chance. Because if he gives her another chance now, he knows he’ll give her one the next time she finds another mouth to kiss, another bed to fall into. And Mike never wants to wonder. He shouldn’t have to. He wants to go to bed with someone he loves, someone he knows will fight for him. 

And Mike isn’t everything she needs either. If Rachel had been satisfied with him, she wouldn’t have needed to kiss someone else behind his back. 

All they’re going to do is hurt each other even more if this continues on.

“What about Tess?”

Mike turns confused eyes to her. “What about Tess?”

She laughs. It’s harsh, biting. Nothing like what she should sound like.

“Rachel, what I did with Tess has no bearing on us. You and I weren’t together when that happened.”

“Glass houses, Mike.”

_Glass houses?_ Really?

“What does that mean?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

Her condescending tone has Mike standing taller, straightening his shoulders. “It seems you do.”

Her tears seem to have disappeared and now she just looks angry, angry and sharp at the edges. Like a word will slice him to ribbons.

“Neither of us is innocent.”

“I never claimed to be.”

“Right.” She nods. “Because it’s every girl’s dream to come second to someone else. How is Harvey?”

“Stop.”

She shakes her head, crosses her arms defensively over her chest. “If you cared half as much for me as you do for him, we wouldn’t be here right now.”

And that…that just _pisses Mike off_.

“Don’t put this on him. He has nothing to do with this. You kissed someone else. _You_ did this.”

She spits out, “You didn’t have such a problem with my kissing someone else when it was you. How is Jenny?”

And that’s it. 

Mike wishes he could go back, undo what he did to Jenny. She was amazing, supportive, and he hurt her. He can’t change that. But he won’t be that guy, ever again. 

“Goodbye, Rachel.”

She just shakes her head at him, turns and storms out of the room.

Mike feels rung out, tired. He’s just done, doesn’t want to think anymore tonight, doesn’t want to think anymore about this at all. 

He picks up his suit coat, lets it dangle from his fingers as he opens the door to find Harvey leaning against the wall opposite, hands in his pockets, one foot crossed over the other. His tie is loosened, the top button on his collar open, and he’s smiling at Mike so fondly it makes Mike’s chest just ache.

“What do you say we pick up Thai before we head home?”

And just like that, nothing else matters. 

“I’m not really feeling Thai tonight. How about Italian?”

Harvey steps over to Mike and they walk side by side, down the hallway, shoulders almost brushing with each step.

“Works for me.”


	76. Chapter 76

It isn’t the right word - brothers - but there isn’t one. Not really. Nothing that can encompass everything Mike is, so it’ll have to do. It’s the word that comes closest to helping others understand, even if it barely scratches the surface. 

Mike is his brother in arms, but never his _brother_ \- he and Marcus do not, cannot, and will never hold the same space in Harvey’s life. But Harvey will _eviscerate_ anyone who hurts either of them. And he will _enjoy it_. Mike is family, and maybe that’s getting closer, but that’s not the right word either. He’s so much more than that.

Harvey’s in love with him. He’s man enough to admit that, even if only to himself. But he respects him too, he _likes_ him, and that’s something else entirely. Harvey would have fallen for Mike no matter what, he knows that. He hits so many of Harvey’s buttons, some he didn’t even know he had. If Mike had never walked into that room at the Chilton, if they’d simply reached for the same book at Powell’s or tried to get the same cab at the same time or been set up on a blind date, Harvey would still have fallen in love with Mike. Falling in love with him was easy. But respect is _earned_ , and Mike is one of Harvey’s precious few to earn it.

He wasn’t supposed to matter like this. He was just supposed to help Harvey kick ass. But he does. _He does_. No one’s ever mattered to Harvey the way Mike does. And Harvey won’t lift a finger to change that now. Mike has him for life. He just wishes there was a word to help other people understand.

Even _husband_ just seems far too simple.


	77. Chapter 77

It’s the first time Harvey’s seen him in more than ten _stupidly_ long months, since Harvey walked into work and discovered that Rachel Zane had outed Mike to the senior partners not already in the know. Before he could blink Mike had shouldered all the responsibility and disappeared with the wind, leaving Harvey behind to figure out what his life was now without him, one tiny chicken scratch note scrawled on a piece of folded over yellow legal paper shoved under his door.

_I couldn’t let you take the fall for me. I’m so fucking sorry._

The first time Harvey calls, it goes to voice mail. Harvey is furious. He leaves a message that he mostly doesn’t remember, too confused and angry and frustrated and sick to see straight. The second time he calls, he gets a recorded message telling him the number’s been disconnected.

_We’re sorry, the number you’ve been trying to reach is no longer in service. Good bye._

Harvey throws his phone against the wall of his office and Donna jumps up from behind her desk, eyes wide.

Harvey ignores Rachel Zane whenever she shows her face, because if he even so much as acknowledges her presence, he’s not sure he’d be able to control himself. It was selfish, what she did to Mike. Selfish and mean-spirited and absolutely cruel, to rip him away from something he was born for out of long simmering jealousy and the heartache of a failed relationship. Harvey has nothing to say to her.

But she walks into his office one day anyway, without his permission. She has a lot of fucking nerve. 

“I want in on the Porter case. I’m being grossly underused-”

Harvey just laughs. 

She stiffens. “Did I say something funny?”

“On your best day you’ll never be half the lawyer Mike was. I have no use for sub par lawyers-in-training.”

Her face goes red and her hands clench. “I worked _hard_ for this.”

“So did he. Go find someone else to praise you for getting ahead. I have _no use_ for you.”

He looks back down at the contract in his hands and leans back in his chair, a clear dismissal. There’s a pause before he hears her soft footsteps trail away from him and out of his office, and a minute or so later, another set trail in and stop in front of him.

Harvey flips over a page in the contract and starts to read the next section. “If you’re about to say anything at all in support of Rachel Zane, I’m going to caution you right now to abstain.”

He hears Donna’s soft sigh, and then her retreating footsteps, followed by the soft shush of his door, closing.

+

Harvey stays at work much later these days, but there’s no partner he trusts now to work with him, and there’s nothing to go to when he goes home, so it’s easy to lose himself in the work and forget the time. It’s dark when he finally looks up again, the office quiet and mostly deserted. Harvey slips a Billie Holiday record on, calls for some takeout, slips off his coat and loosens his tie, and gets back to work.

He’s digging into his orange chicken when he hears a soft noise in the doorway and looks up to see Benjamin standing there.

“I’m sorry. I thought everyone had gone home for the night.”

“Everyone has. What are you doing here this late?”

“I need to install updates. It’s easier to do it when everyone else is gone.”

Harvey nods, motions with his head to his laptop, open and on, sitting in the middle of his desk. “Go ahead.”

Harvey eats and Benjamin works, and when he finishes, Harvey asks if he’d like a little beef and broccoli.

“No, thanks.” Harvey nods, looks back down at the carton in his hands, pauses when a slip of paper is placed on the top of the table in front of him and slid forward with a couple of fingers. Harvey instantly knows what it is and he drops the carton onto the table, looks up. Benjamin just nods, turns, walks out of the office.

+

He looks good, _really good_ , but he always did, so that doesn’t say much. Harvey sits and watches him a minute. He looks a little more relaxed, a little less eager, although that’s probably a side effect of not having to constantly prove himself, over and over again, in the heavy, constant pressure of his former life.

His _former_ life. Fuck. 

“Harvey?”

Harvey’s still a little pissed off that Mike didn’t trust him enough to stay, to give Harvey a chance to fix what Rachel broke, but Mike is looking at him, hopeful, more than a little wary, and the words just slip out on a sigh.

“Come home.”

He deflates. “You know I can’t. You’ve worked so hard for everything you have, too hard for me to take it all away. I can’t do that to you. I can’t let someone use me against you.”

It’s an impulse, but everything in Harvey tells him it’s the right thing to do when he surges forward, slips a hand around Mike’s neck, and kisses him. It’s too quick to be great, their lips too dry, but it’s just right anyway.

Harvey pulls back, leans his forehead against Mike’s, and Mike breathes out, “ _Harvey_.”

“You don’t get it. None of it means anything without you.”

He squeezes Mike’s neck and Mike bumps Harvey’s nose with his.

“And if that means leaving New York and moving across the country, fine. San Francisco is beautiful.”

“It’s not New York.”

“Nothing’s New York. But you’re not in New York anymore." 

"It’s a big decision. Huge.”

Harvey pulls back and looks at him and the sheer, unabashed _hope_ on his face makes this the absolute easiest decision Harvey’s ever made.

“No…no, it’s not.”


	78. Chapter 78

Harvey bites down into his apple with a smirk and watches as Mike’s naked ass retreats back into their bedroom, a smile thrown over his shoulder just before he turns the corner.

A knock sounds at the front door.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes. Rene will be pissed if we’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah. No need to nag, old man. I’m almost ready.”

Harvey shakes his head fondly, pulls open the front door.

“Jessica.” He motions her inside. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I need to speak with you about something.”

She walks over to the kitchen, stops in front of the counter. He offers her a cup of coffee, she declines. "It couldn’t wait until I got in?“

She rests her hands on the counter, looks him straight on. "You can’t bring Mike to the client dinner tonight.”

The tone of finality in her voice completely erases his good mood and immediately puts him on edge. “Why the hell not?”

“It’s in the best interests of the firm if you go alone.”

“ _Excuse me_?”

“I’m not interested in having a discussion with you about this.”

“I don’t give a shit if you don’t want a discussion. You just told me I can’t bring my _fiance_ to dinner with a client I’ve been working on closing for the last month and a half. You’re going to get a _fucking discussion_.”

“My word is final.”

Harvey looks past Jessica to see Mike, leaning against the wall near their bedroom, watching them, Harvey’s suit coat hanging from the tips of his fingers. Mike gives him a little smile and Harvey sets the apple down on the counter, starts toward him as Mike rises off the wall to start his way.

Jessica turns when he walks past her and Mike holds out the coat for him to slip into, smoothing the fabric down over his shoulders, kissing him as he does up the buttons.

When he turns again, Jessica is watching him, watching _them_.

“Fine. Mike won’t go.”

She nods.

“And neither will I.”

“Harvey-”

“I hand him over to you.”

Jessica glances at Mike like she’s trying to make a decision about something before looking back Harvey’s way. “David Miller is a bigot.”

“What?”

“In the past few weeks he’s made major contributions to fundamentalist organizations, one of which has been known to arm people who carry out hate crimes against the gay community.”

Mike asks, “So why not drop him as a client?”

“Because he would bring millions of dollars worth of business our way.”

He smiles, but he doesn’t mean it. “That’s our Jessica, always protecting the bottom line.”

“Someone has to. And give me a little credit. It’s also about you. I’m not about to put you or your relationship under that level of scrutiny.”

“Let me be _absolutely_ clear about one thing: I’m not ashamed of Mike, and I refuse to hide him for any reason. Not even for a bigoted client. You want me to close him? Fine. But I’m doing it my way.”

Jessica turns to Mike. “How do you feel about that?”

Mike laughs. “I think you’re forgetting I don’t work for you anymore. You can’t pit me against him. I back Harvey’s play. Always.”

“So you’d be comfortable going into a client dinner with David Miller, knowing what you know about him?”

“I trust Harvey. That’s all I need.”

She turns back to Harvey, narrows her eyes at the serene smile he knows is stretching across his face. “And what will you do when he refuses to even sit down at the same table with you?”

He shrugs, suddenly absolutely positive that David Miller will be no more difficult to close than anyone else he’s ever dealt with. What the clients want is attention and confidence, to know that their business will be treated personally. That they’re protected. And that’s what Harvey does.

And he’s never been better at it, he’s never done more for this firm than when he’s had Mike nearby.

“I’ll close the shit out of him. And when I’m done, he’ll be begging for our business.”

He glances over at Mike, watches him sling his leather satchel over his shoulder, looking for a moment exactly like the first day he walked into Pearson Hardman, the first day of the rest of Harvey’s life. The first day Harvey realized that what he’d done was going to pale in comparison to what they could do, together.

“That’s what I do.”


	79. Chapter 79

Harvey goes to the restaurant directly from work, and he goes alone. Mike had offered his presence, his support, but Harvey declined. If it went well, then there was all the opportunity in the world in the future for them to meet. If not, then there was no point putting Mike through all that.

Harvey’s had a life’s worth of disappointment from his mother. Mike doesn’t need that.

She’s early, waiting for Harvey when he gets there, and he unwillingly grants her a point for that. She looks nervous, and she stands when he gets to the table, smiles at him hesitantly.

It’s all downhill from there.

It’s an unmitigated disaster, and Harvey should feel maybe a little guilty about how easy it really is at the end to cut ties permanently with the woman who gave birth to him, but he doesn’t. She never wanted to be a mother, that’s clear, and Harvey is tired of trying to force some kind of relationship with her. Gordon always wanted him to try, but he’s gone now, and Marcus is on the other side of the country. Their little family is gone, and Harvey is not going to try to keep it together anymore under pretense.

He gets up from the table, walks away, and doesn’t look back.

The condo is warm when he slips inside and sets his briefcase down by the front door. It smells amazing too, so Mike must have started a fire while he made dinner. Something Italian. He’s sitting in the middle of the couch, blanket on his lap, watching Clue, and Harvey slips a hand down over his chest and underneath his t-shirt, resting his hand over Mike’s heart. Mike leans his head back and kisses him in greeting, and the rain starts to pound against the windows.

“Dinner’s in the oven.”

Harvey changes clothes, pulls the plate out of the oven, comes to sit next to Mike. He doesn’t question why Mike knew he wouldn’t even make it to his entree, why he’s home earlier than he should be, why he’s not saying anything.

Mike pulls the blanket over his lap, leans into him.

The carbonara is amazing, and Harvey polishes off the plate of food easily, giving Mike a kiss as a thank you.

“Baby asleep?”

“He went down like a champ.”

Harvey doesn’t need to hold together some sham of a family, not when he already has one. He’s only sorry his dad never lived to be a part of it. Mike and Emmett would have had him wrapped around their fingers.

“He was playing in front of the fireplace this morning and he just started laughing and he gave me this little grin, and I could swear it was like I was looking right at you. Or your dad.” He picks his phone up, plays the video he took earlier for Harvey. “See?”

Yeah. He sees.


	80. Chapter 80

He catches Harvey’s eye immediately as he comes rising up out of the surf, smiling sweetly, gorgeous and sun kissed. And the minute he laughs - at something his friend says - Harvey knows he’s done for.

Harvey knows what he likes, he knows what he wants. And right now it’s the man in low slung black board shorts, shaking the water out of his hair as he comes walking Harvey’s way.

If he has even a few brain cells to rub together, Harvey’s a goner.

He stops at a towel about fifteen feet in front of Harvey, says something to his friends that makes her throw her head back and laugh, bump his shoulder with her own. She motions back over her shoulder with her thumb towards the ocean and he smiles and nods at whatever she says, picking up a towel to wipe himself down.

Harvey sets his book down, watches him.

He rubs the towel over his hair, his chest. A few drops escape and go sliding down his body before disappearing into the waistband of his board shorts, resting dangerously low, tempting Harvey’s eyes to rest on his hip bones, on the trail of hair disappearing just out of sight.

When Harvey’s eyes slide back up his body they finally meet his, staring at Harvey, towel rubbing lazily at his chest.

Harvey pulls two beers out of his cooler by their necks, twists off the tops, feels the icy cool water slip and slide off the glass and onto his fingers.

He holds one out, an offering.

The man throws the towel over his shoulder, walks over without any hesitation and stops by the side of Harvey’s chair. Harvey has to tilt his head back to meet the other man’s eyes and he smiles up at him as the man takes the beer from Harvey, tilts his head back and swallows. Harvey wonders what that Adam’s apple will feel like under his tongue.

“Harvey.”

The man smiles down at him, shifts his hips a little closer. “Mike. Thanks for the beer.”

“My pleasure.”

Mike uses his towel to wipe away the sweat beginning to form on his forehead, takes another long, slow pull from his beer.

“Hot?”

Mike hums in response. “And the beach is getting a little crowded. I was thinking of heading inside.”

“To cool off?”

Mike rests the bottom of his icy beer bottle on Harvey’s arm, slowly slides it up to his elbow. “That wasn’t my first priority, no.”

“What about your friend?”

His eyes lock on Harvey’s. “You see the guy in blue and yellow striped trunks, down near the water?” Harvey glances that way, nods. “I’m not the only one who caught someone’s eye.”

Harvey switches the beer bottle from one hand to another, slides his wet, cold hand over the bare skin of Mike’s hip, hears Mike’s soft gasp.

“You ready to get out of the sun?”


	81. Chapter 81

Harvey was worried at first that when Harrison was born and Mike quit, he’d have a hard time adapting. Sure, it was clear from the beginning that this was what they both wanted, what they both thought was the right thing to do. But that didn’t mean it was going to be easy on Mike to change his entire focus, to change his key identifying characteristic.

Harvey was still a lawyer. Mike was now Harrison’s dad.

And Harvey could see it - even if Mike never mentioned it, he could see it was taking a toll on him. His brain is far too active, too remarkable, to focus only on an infant and expect that to be enough to sustain it. He waited for Mike to make a move, but he never did. Whether it was because he was too cowardly to say something or too resigned, Harvey didn’t know. But he did know he could never stay married to a man who kept his mouth shut because he thought for some reason that was a good choice for their marriage.

He’s an idiot. He’s Harvey’s idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. Harvey married the gorgeous little shit because he loves him, because at the end of the day there isn’t anyone else who makes Harvey the best version of himself. He could never have married anyone else. Period.

So he bought the camera, left it on the bed in the morning before he kissed a mostly asleep Mike, and walked out the door for work. When he walked back in the door that night, it was to Mike sitting barefoot cross-legged on the sofa, the camera in his hands, staring at the screen, smiling a little. Harvey tilted up Mike’s face with one finger under the chin so he could kiss him, and Mike tilted the camera to show Harvey the picture on the small screen: Harrison on his tummy on his blanket, the light from the windows in front of him caught in his eyes, reaching out his pudgy little baby hand toward the window, trying to catch a reflected rainbow.

After that, Mike takes the camera everywhere, and Harvey starts to see their lives laid like a photojournalist’s essay. Pictures of early morning breakfasts, walks in the park, Harrison walking, Harvey eating a hot dog on a break from work, Jenny smiling as she looks out the window, Harrison on her lap. Mike playing on the floor with their boy, Marcus and Harvey laughing, each with a bottle of beer up to their lips, Mike standing up as Jenny’s Man of Honor, Harrison on his hip, smiling across the aisle at Harvey as Jenny and Marcus exchange their vows. (Mike handed off the camera to Benjamin, and it’s imperfect, not even close to Mike’s standards. Which, of course, means it’s Mike’s favorite of them all.)

Mike likes to surprise him, show up when he least expects it, which explains the camera in his face if not the toddler in his lap, playing with his tie at eleven o’clock in the morning.

“Jenny called. She wants us to come over for dinner tonight.”

“She’s pregnant, and she wants to tell us.”

Harvey plays at nibbling at Harrison’s fingers, to the toddler’s high-pitched giggled delight, and hears the click of Mike’s shutter. He became talented long ago at ignoring Mike’s camera while he’s working.

“How do you know that?”

Harvey looks up. “Marcus let it slip. Act surprised tonight.”

Mike grins behind the camera. “Will do.”

Another click of the shutter.

When Harvey gets home later, Mike will show him the picture. Harvey, relaxed back in his desk chair, a happy Harrison in his lap, his head thrown back on Harvey’s shoulder to look up at his dad, Harvey’s hand resting on the little boy’s belly as he looks straight through the camera, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, Mike reflected in the catchlights in his eyes.


	82. Chapter 82

It shouldn’t be that hard, opening the door and walking through it. But still Mike pauses, stares at the dark wood, doesn’t move. They’d agreed this was the right way to go about it - no massive guest list, no huge production, very little fuss. Well…Rachel had said that was what she wanted, and Mike had agreed. It just seemed easier that way, and Mike had never been all that interested in flower arrangements or seating cards or invitations.

But something about it still feels wrong, and Mike just can’t reach forward and open that door.

“You don’t want to do this.”

Mike turns his head slowly. Somehow he knew he’d show up. _He knew_.

“Maybe it’s exactly what I want to do.”

“Then why can’t you walk through the door?”

“ _Harvey_ -”

“Don’t walk through the door.”

“Why not?”

He swallows, his Adam’s Apple jerking. “Because if you do, nothing will ever be the same again.”

“Isn’t that the point? Things can’t always stay the same, Harvey. We have to move forward eventually.”

“We shouldn’t choose the wrong things, just because we think they’re the only choices we have.” He shifts. “You’re wrong about that, by the way.”

He gestures toward the door. “You think I should just leave her in there, on her wedding day?”

“Would you rather marry someone you know is wrong for you?”

Mike suddenly feels very, very tired. “What do you want, Harvey?”

“Why are you settling?”

“What makes you think I’m settling?”

Harvey’s jaw clenches. “You deserve someone who will willingly stand up in front of every person they know and promise to love you, to cherish you, to protect you.”

“Harvey-”

“Why do you insist you deserve _less_ than that?”

Mike presses his lips together.

“Don’t walk through that door.”

Mike is still staring when Harvey turns and walks away. It isn’t a surrender, not even close. He’s making sure it’s Mike’s choice. And Mike has never felt more petrified of making the wrong one.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Almost immediately after he knocks, the door in front of him swings open. Harvey is dressed down, in jeans and a henley, and he leans into the door frame, looking far more relaxed than Mike feels.

“Tell me why I’m here.”

Harvey smiles at him a little in that soft, quiet way that makes his eyes crinkle and his entire demeanor loosen. “Because you’re not sure if you believe me when I say you deserve better. But you do know there’s only one person you trust to prove that.”

“And?”

“And I won’t let you down.”

Mike pauses. “I left her. On her wedding day.”

“Yes, you did. And it was a mercy.”

“She’ll hate me.”

“Maybe. Probably.”

He scrubs his hand through his hair. “I need to hear it, Harvey,” he says, almost desperately. “I need you to say it.”

“I’ve got you.” Harvey reaches up, gently grasps the back of Mike’s neck and brings their faces together, their noses brushing in a whisper of a touch. “I’ve got you.”

He releases Mike and turns, walks into the condo, leaving the door open behind him. Mike stands there, in the hallway, looks inside at the light and the warmth, inhales the smell of wood, burning in the fireplace. He looks down at his feet, at the light spilling onto his toes.

And he walks through the door.


	83. Chapter 83

Mike settles in his chair at the head table at his wedding reception, surveys his friends, Harvey’s friends, _their_ friends talking and laughing around the room, highlighted by the low music being played by the live band. He’s startled slightly from his revelry when Jessica sits down next to him. She smiles at him, openly fond in a way she never could have been when Mike worked for her, when he carried a secret so heavy and big the slightest stumble had the ability to ruin them all. Mike wouldn’t call them close, exactly, but time and distance has made them see each other differently. He’d like to think they’re friends.

They watch Harvey smile across the room as he makes small talk with their friends, relaxed in already rolled up sleeves, a wine glass in hand. He abandoned his jacket on his chair an hour ago and he laughs at something Donna says, turns, catches Mike’s eye and smiles at Mike so softly, so comfortably, that it makes his stomach flip. 

“I’ve never seen anyone fight for someone as hard as Harvey fought for you.” Mike turns his head, looks at her. “I almost fired you once, after that friend of yours stopped by, spilled your secret.”

Mike laughs. “Once?”

She grins. There’s no animosity there now. She shrugs delicately. “Maybe more than once.”

His grin matches hers.

“He told me flat out he wasn’t staying without you. Did he tell you that?”

“No.”

But that’s hardly surprising. He doubts Harvey ever had any intention of telling him. He plays his emotions very close to his well tailored, bespoke vest.

“I’m curious, how long have you been in love with him?”

She eyes him over the top of her wine glass.

“Just curious?”

Her smile stretches. “I might have a little money down in the office pool.”

Mike barks a laugh. _Of course_ there’s a pool. Donna probably started it.

He gives Harvey one more look then angles his body toward her, and watches her reciprocate. “Ever since I saw a copy of Freakonomics on Harvey’s end table.”

She looks so confused Mike almost laughs. He settles for a grin.

“That friend of mine that stopped by…his name was Trevor. He’d been my best friend since I was five.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Turning someone in is a strange way to prove friendship.”

“Yeah…he was never as good at being my friend as he claimed to be. Harvey was a lot better at it. And that scared Trevor.”

“So where does Freakonomics come in?”

“I recommended books to Trevor all the time. He never read them, just blew me off. Freakonomics was one of them. The first day I met Harvey, I mentioned it offhand. Three days later I see it on his end table, read three quarters of the way through.” He looks across the room again, toward his new husband. Harvey is facing him now, watching Mike easily as he nods along to a story. “I started slipping in book titles here and there, just to see what would happen. Harvey never said anything, but he read every single one of them.”

He looks over at Jessica, who’s watching him curiously now. “It only took three days? He works faster than I thought.”

Mike grins as Harvey starts striding across the room toward them. “Nah. It only took one day. He had me from the beginning. The book on the end table helped me trust it.”

“Love at first sight then.”

“Well… _yeah_ ,” Harvey says as he leans into the edge of the table and slips his hand around the back of Mike’s neck. Mike leans into the touch, tilts his head back to smile up at him. “You think I would have risked everything for just anyone?”


	84. Chapter 84

It’s the early morning sun that wakes Mike up, streaming in through the window at just the right angle to cast a beam of sunlight directly on his eyes and keep him from going back to sleep. Clearly he forgot to pull the curtains closed last night when they stumbled in, but it’s a little late to regret that, and he’d had other, more important things on his mind at the time.

Harvey is still asleep, face down on the left side of Mike’s bed, his arm resting under Mike’s pillow. Mike takes a minute to admire Harvey’s lax, soft face, how comfortable he looks, before getting up. He won’t be able to fall back asleep now, so he may as well get up and start breakfast.

He grabs the first shirt he sees, buttons it up halfway, leaves the cuffs hanging loose and grabs his boxers off the floor, pulling them on over his hips. He scratches at what he’s sure is some truly epic bedhead and walks over to the fridge, pulling it open. He winces when he sees how bare it is, but he has eggs and OJ and bagels, and that’ll do.

He’s just cracking a couple of eggs in the frying pan when he feels one hand slip under his shirt and over his stomach and another weave into his hair. He turns his head and accepts a kiss, and asks Harvey what he wants on his bagel. He doesn’t ask how Harvey wants his eggs. He’s already begun making them over easy.

Harvey asks if he has cream cheese and Mike grunts noncommittally - he doubts it, going by the contents of his fridge - so Harvey goes exploring, letting out a disgusted sound when he finally sees the contents - or lack thereof - of Mike’s fridge.

“This is ridiculous. We’re going to the grocery store today.”

“Yes, dear.”

He catches Harvey’s giant eye roll and grins to himself, reaching up for a plate when Harvey’s bagel pops up in the toaster. He looks over when Harvey tosses a half-eaten block of cream cheese on the counter and can’t stop the surprisedhey that slips out.

“Cream cheese!”

“It was in your vegetable drawer. Why was it in your vegetable drawer?”

Mike just shrugs, grabs silverware out of the drawer below and sets it on the counter. There really isn’t a good explanation for that, honestly.

Harvey slips behind him, threads a hand back in Mike’s hair, and Mike closes his eyes briefly as Harvey tilts his head back and gives him a deep, searching kiss, stealing Mike’s breath. When Harvey pulls away just a bit, Mike mutters something about eggs, and reaches down with a shaky hand and slides them out of the pan and onto Harvey’s plate before they can start to burn. He sets the pan on a cold burner and Harvey’s hand starts massaging his scalp. He pulls Mike in for another kiss, and reaches his other hand down to slide Mike’s boxers down over his hips. Mike helps as best he can, kicking them away from his feet when they hit the ground.

Mike’s left hand is braced on the counter in front of him and Harvey’s hand slips over his, pulling it off the counter and down to take Mike’s cock in their hands, Harvey setting the pace. Mike’s head falls back as his right hand scrambles to turn the stove off because as floaty as Harvey can make him feel, as intense as it always is when they come together, the last thing either of them need is an open flame near exposed skin.

Harvey’s right hand drops to Mike’s stomach and rucks the shirt up and his chin drops to Mike’s shoulder. He leaves kisses on Mike’s neck, sucks a mark into his skin as their hands speed up, as Mike’s stomach starts to clench and his limbs start to shake. Harvey is hard in his boxers and Mike can feel him against his ass and he rolls his hips, satisfaction blooming when he hears Harvey’s sharp intake of breath.

Harvey pulls Mike tighter against him and starts rolling his hips as he speeds their hands up on Mike’s cock. Mike chokes out a gasp and his head drops forward and _he’ssocloseohgodohgod._

_“Harvey!”_

Mike gasps and accepts the kiss Harvey gives him, Harvey’s right hand rubbing circles on Mike’s stomach as he comes down. The sun is beating in through the window next to them and as Mike comes back to himself, it occurs to him they’ve probably given someone a free show.

Their left hands are back on the counter, and as Mike breaks from the kiss, he glances at them then laughs, chest shaking as his head falls onto Harvey’s shoulder.

“You’re ridiculous.”

His right hand reaches to the left, fingers the embroidered _H.S._ on the left cuff.

“Thanks for making breakfast.”

Mike huffs a laugh. “Your eggs are getting cold.”

Harvey noses behind Mike’s ear. “Worth it.”


	85. Chapter 85

The feelings don’t go away.

Mike is a married man now, and Harvey is no longer the first name in his speed dial. There are no more late night beer accompanied phone calls, no more late night runs for Chinese while they’re poring over a case together, no more late night anything. Harvey’s life has returned to something close to what it was before Mike crashed into that interview room and…he hates it. Because even though Mike is here, it’s almost as if he’s not.

There is no more _them_ , and Harvey feels it, every day.

+

It’s late, and everyone else is gone for the day. Harvey has gotten used to this time alone again, to the shift from two back to one. Harvey had never been much of a collaborator when it came to work, but then Mike came along and proved that the right person can always change your status quo. Hiring him is still the best choice he’s ever made, even if it’s also the stupidest.

A record plays low in the background, and Harvey shifts his weight against the other arm of his chair, crossing his legs. As he flips to page 107 of the Grunberg bylaws, he can’t help but think that Mike would have managed all 227 pages by now. Harvey would have played it off, and he would have given Mike crap, but it would have impressed the hell out of him all the same. He had a partner, and now he does all the work himself. There just isn’t anyone who can match who Mike is to Harvey, what they had.

When his phone rings, he’s surprised to see it’s Mike calling. And equally as surprised when the voice on the other line isn’t his.

“Is this Harvey Specter?”

Harvey stands, bites out, “Who are you? And why do you have Mike Ross’ phone?”

“I have his phone because he’s almost passed out in my bar. And he’s asking for you.”

+

The voice on the other end of the line, Deshaun, points Harvey toward the stool at the very end of his bar, and Harvey hands him a few bills for his trouble. Mike is barely vertical, and it looks like he’s about to test the law of gravity in a minute if Harvey doesn’t step in first. He steps forward and wraps an arm around Mike’s back and yep, that wasn’t a moment too soon.

“Harvey!”

Mike looks up at him with his big, bright blue eyes, and Harvey feels undone.

“What are you doing here?!?”

Harvey tightens his hand just a little when Mike wobbles, feels the hard lines of his ribs beneath the fabric of his shirt.

“Deshaun called me. He mentioned you might be having a problem standing on your own.”

Mike giggles - actually _giggles_. “I can’t. I’ve had a looooot of scotch. And maybe some vodka.”

“I can tell.”

“Harvey. Harvey, Harvey, _Harvey_.”

“Mike.” He sighs, starts to help Mike off the stool. “Let’s get you home.”

The smile drops off Mike’s face as he leans most of his weight into Harvey. Harvey doesn’t know how much Mike has had, but he has a feeling he should have been cut off long ago. “No.”

“You don’t want to go home?”

“No.”

A light mist has started to fall and Mike turns his face up toward the sky, closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. He’s smiling again, but Harvey has a feeling he’s about to ruin that. “Why don’t you want to go home, Mike?”

Mike’s face falls again and he shakes his head, and Harvey gives it up, moves him into the cab that just pulled up. Not too long ago, Mike would have told him. But not too long ago, they were still partners.

Harvey brings him back to the office, because he still has work to do, and Harvey has a couch. Mike will sleep it off, and in the morning, they’ll go their separate ways again. 

Harvey sits him down on the couch and hands him a glass of water and a couple of aspirin and Mike takes them, blinking slowly as he looks up at Harvey. “You’re nice to me.”

“Yeah. Lay down.”

Mike does, laying flat on his back with his hands on his stomach as he looks up at Harvey, his shoes making a mess of the end of Harvey’s couch. Harvey rolls his eyes and leans over, loosening the laces of Mike’s shoes before pulling them off and setting them on the floor. When he looks back up, Mike is holding his tie out to Harvey in one outstretched fist. 

He takes it, lays it over the back of a chair. “You’re going to have a hell of a headache in the morning.”

Mike doesn’t respond, his eyes already shut, and Harvey lowers the lights in the office, sits back down, and picks up the Grunberg paperwork. He scans one page, then another, and another, and almost forgets Mike is in the room with him. Almost. He looks up and Mike is curled in on himself, facing Harvey, face bunched and tense. Harvey takes a sip of his scotch, flips the page.

He gets through another half dozen pages before his eyes slip to Mike only to find Mike’s eyes fixed on him.

“She’s cheating on me.” He sounds absolutely sober and Harvey can’t take his eyes off of Mike’s sad, resigned face. “She thinks I don’t know, but she’s terrible at hiding it.”

“Jesus, Mike.”

“I made the wrong choice.”

“You thought you were making the right one.”

“That doesn’t make it better.”

No, it doesn’t.

Mike reaches out and grips the arm of Harvey’s chair, his fingers so close to Harvey’s thigh that if Harvey moved, he’d feel Mike’s touch. “What do you do when you’ve made the wrong choice?”

Harvey pauses, then says, “You fix your mistake, if you can. Then you make the right choice.”

“Yeah.” Mike pulls his hand away, shifts so he’s lying on his back, staring at the ceiling of Harvey’s office. 

A moment later he’s asleep, his face still tense and pained. Harvey nearly reaches out once to grip his arm, his shoulder, anything.

He doesn’t.

+

Harvey leaves work for an hour or so to freshen up, take a shower, get a coffee at the little shop down from his condo. When he walks back into his office, Mike is gone.

He’s not surprised.

+

“I made the wrong choice.”

“So you said this morning.”

It’s been a long day, and Harvey’s ready to call it a day. But he can’t do that, not when Mike is standing in his office doorway, looking far too much like he did the day they met. He’s never liked the look of desperation on him.

Mike takes a deep breath, steps further into the office, shutting Harvey’s door behind him. He gets about halfway to Harvey’s desk before he stops, braces his hand on the back of the chair Harvey was sitting in last night. 

“You were the right choice.”

“Mike -”

“Even if you don’t feel the same way, you were still the right choice. You _are_ the right choice.” He swallows, shakes his head. “I found a good divorce lawyer. That’s step one.”

“And step two?”

“That all depends on you.”

Harvey nods once, then slowly moves from behind his desk, walks over until he’s standing in front of Mike, feeling calmer than he ever has, more settled.

“I miss working with you.”

“I miss working with you too.”

Harvey nods. “You have anywhere to go?”

“There’s a conversation I still need to have, but after that…no.”

“Wrong answer.”

Mike smiles, starts to reach for Harvey but stops, self-consciously drops his hand. 

“And so we’re clear, I feel the same way.”

Mike’s smile is joyful and hopeful and _blinding_ , and Harvey should have had the guts to be honest months ago. They’ve both fucked this up, but blame is pointless.

This time, they’re both making the right choice.


	86. Chapter 86

The answering loud, indelicate snort has Harvey slowly turning his head to look at the bartender in front of him.

“Please tell me that’s not the best you’ve got.”

“Did I ask for your input?”

The woman gets up with her drink and walks away with a shake of the head and Harvey watches her leave a moment before turning slightly irritated eyes to the bartender. The bartender puts his hands up in mock surrender at Harvey before going back to wiping down the bar top in front of him, clearly not the slightest bit bothered by his interference. His arm muscles clench and move under his tight black Oxford shirt as he works, and his mouth never seems to lose that slight smirk gracing its corners.

“What would you have said?”

“Not _that_.”

Harvey pauses before taking a sip of his wine and says, “You’re awfully quick to criticize for someone who can’t come up with a better answer.” 

He shrugs easily. “Good flirting isn’t one size fits all. And most people suck at it.”

“Do tell.”

The bartender stops, seems to consider Harvey for a moment, before saying, “All I hear, all day long, are bad pickup lines. If someone’s into you - _really into you_ \- you don’t need a line.” He leans in. “There’s an energy. A spark. That’s all you need.” He straightens. “A stupid line just gets in the way of all that. Besides, have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Nah. I’m a lawyer - we can’t see our reflections.”

The bartender grins and shakes his head, the light dancing in his eyes. Harvey grins right back.

“Well, trust me…” He gives Harvey a quick once-over. “You don’t need a line.”

He heads away to serve a customer on the other end of the bar and Harvey watches him a moment, thoughtfully. Then he stands, slips off his stool, and pulls out his wallet. He pulls out a few folded bills just as the bartender walks over and he sets them down on the bar, slides them over. The bartender picks them up, raising an eyebrow at the amount.

“Thanks for the conversation. And the honesty.”

He nods, slowly. “Anytime.”

+

Harvey doesn’t intend to go back - there are plenty of bars in the city, plenty of other bartenders, and none of the others, he’s fairly sure, practice coitus interruptus. But somehow he finds himself directing Ray to towards _that_ bar, towards _that_ bartender. He doesn’t know his name, he doesn’t know anything about him, yet somehow he’s still managed to monopolize a reasonably high percentage of Harvey’s thoughts for the last week. Harvey is… _intrigued_.

“He returns.”

It was a long shot, thinking he might be working tonight, but there he is, smiling at Harvey as he wipes a glass down in that same tight black shirt.

“I was dying for more of your scintillating conversation.”

He answers with an almost impossibly wide grin, and Harvey sits down in front of him, at the bar. 

“I’m Mike, by the way.”

He sets a glass down in front of Harvey, pours two fingers of amber liquid. Harvey picks up the glass, takes a sip then says Mike’s name, lets it roll off his tongue. “Mike. Nice to meet you. I’m Harvey. Harvey Specter.”

Mike laughs a little, crosses his arms.

“What?”

“Nothing. It just sounds like the alter ego of a superhero.”

“Now who’s using a pickup line?”

“Oh, that’s not a pickup line.”

Harvey raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“No. A pickup line would be if I said, ‘Hey, I get off in an hour. How about we get off together?’”

“Yes.”

Mike’s smile drops off his face and he leans forward, toward Harvey, his eyes dancing across Harvey’s face. “Yes?”

Harvey sits there calmly, hands clasped together on the bar. “Yes. And for the record…” Harvey’s eyes slide down Mike’s body and back up. Mike’s mouth is parted, his eyes locked on Harvey. “You don’t need a line either.”


	87. Chapter 87

Harvey could take the chance, hire this troubled kid with the brilliant brain, _but_ …

“I’m not going to give you the job.”

It would be stupid to, he knows that. And knowing that is what keeps him from relenting when he sees the hope melting off the kid’s face.

“I’m going to finish interviewing those Harvard clones out there and then I’m going to pick one to be an associate, because that’s what I have to do.”

He nods, looks down at the carpet below him. It was a long shot. He knew it, Harvey knows he knew it. Harvey watches him gather himself: he squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath, lifts his head. He’s been disappointed before, Harvey can tell, and this is just another thing he’s decided won’t break him. Harvey admires the hell out of that.

“And then I’m going to hire you.”

His eyes go wide, then narrow, his mouth parts. He points toward the outside room, where six identical men are waiting to be interviewed. “But I thought you just said you were going to hire one of them.”

“As an associate, yes. I can’t hire you as an associate. You don’t have a degree, and I’m not interested in either of us going away for fraud in the future.”

“Okay…”

He motions Mike up from the chair, and he sits, opens his email. “I’m going to hire you as a consultant.”

Mike sits down in the chair on the other side of the desk, leaning forward. “A consultant?”

Harvey nods. “I’ll give you the same signing bonus, and your hourly will be close to what you would make as an associate.”

“So you’d just…call me when you need me?”

“Basically.” He stops typing, looks up from the computer at Mike. “And I have a feeling that after I hire one of them…” He nods toward the outer room. “I’m going to be calling you a lot.”

Mike sits back in his chair, tension falling away as he smiles to himself, nods. Something has gone right. Something has _finally_ gone right. Harvey smiles a little to himself as he finishes the email to Jessica, telling her he’s hired a consultant, and that he’ll have a new associate by the end of the day. She’ll take him to task for it, he knows, but the moment she sees what Mike and his brain can do, she’ll gladly eat her own words.

“Anyone will be able to hire you at the firm, but-”

Mike grins. “You would appreciate it if your work came first? No problem.”

Harvey nods toward the briefcase. “Get rid of that shit right now, and the person who gave it to you.”

Mike sits up. “But he’s my best friend.”

“No,” Harvey says firmly. “He’s not. No one who’s willing to saddle you with a possible possession with intent charge could be your best friend. Best friends give you opportunities to succeed, they don’t take them from you. And you need suits.”

Mike blinks at the change in topic, looks down at himself. “What’s wrong with this one?”

Harvey stares at him, pointedly. “It’s not _yours_ , for one. It doesn’t even fit you. I’m sending you to my tailor.”

“Harvey, that’s too much.”

“No, it’s just enough. You want to live this life? You have to dress like it. And we both need to convince my boss that hiring you is the right choice.”

“And that’ll help?”

“She won’t throw you out on your ass, if that’s what you’re asking.”

He takes a deep breath, takes the business card Harvey hands over between two fingers with his tailor’s information on it. He studies the card then looks up at Harvey and asks, “So get rid of the pot and the best friend, go see the tailor, and live in respectful fear of your boss?”

He grins. “Mike…I have a feeling this is going to be the start of a beautiful relationship.”

+

“A consultant. I tell you to hire an associate, and you hire an associate _and_ a consultant.”

Harvey nods, unrepentant. “I would have hired the consultant as my associate but he doesn’t have a degree, and I’m not that stupid.”

Jessica laughs. “Oh, don’t kid yourself. You’re definitely capable of being that stupid.”

“His brain is incredible, Jessica. We’d be idiots to let him go just because he doesn’t have a degree.”

She stops behind her desk, lifts an eyebrow at him. “He better impress me.”

“Oh…he will.”


	88. Chapter 88

Mike bursts through the door when Harvey opens it, flips down his hood with a rough hand. There’s a spattering of raindrops on his shoulders, soaked into the top of his jacket. He rushes past Harvey into the living room.

“Mike?”

Harvey walks up to him slowly, left hand in his pocket. He’s still holding the empty glass in his hand he was about to fill when Mike pounded on his door, still wearing today’s suit of armor. He hadn’t even had time to roll up his sleeves, to loosen his tie.

Mike stares at the empty glass in Harvey’s hand. “You need a drink. Let me get you a drink.”

Mike grabs the bottle of Glenlivet on Harvey’s wet bar and sloppily pours a few fingers in Harvey’s glass before he sets the bottle down roughly and turns to stare pointedly at him. Harvey lifts the glass to his mouth, takes a slow sip, then looks back up at Mike. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but clearly something is bothering Mike. Something that has him pounding on doors and practically force-feeding others alcohol.

Seemingly satisfied but no less agitated, Mike starts pacing the floor in front of him, rubbing a hand through his hair. Finally he stops and rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes before he bends forward, gripping the back of the sofa.

“I don’t want you to be my best man.”

“…okay.”

_Oh_. So this is what a punch to the chest feels like.

Mike groans, pushes himself off the back of the sofa, starts pacing again. “ _Not okay_. I just…I don’t want you to be my best man. I want you to be my _only man_.”

Harvey bends and sets his glass down on a side table. “Mike…”

Mike spins away, groans again, like he’s in anguish. “I’m screwing this up.”

Harvey walks over, grips Mike’s shoulder and squeezes. “Talk to me.”

“I’m _trying_.” 

Mike turns, his eyes focused on the floor between them and Harvey lifts his hand and cups Mike’s cheek. It pulls at him a little to say it, but if Mike needs to hear it, Harvey is going to say it. “It’s okay if you don’t want me to be your best man.”

A set of blue eyes rise to meet his. “I’m not marrying Rachel.”

Harvey asks, softly, “Why not?”

Mike’s eyes bore into his. “Because I’d be an asshole to marry her when I’ve been in love with you for a year.”

Oh. _Oh_.

“You don’t have to say anything, I just-”

“Mike? Shut up.”

Harvey leans in and at the last moment Mike stops him, says, “Harvey, if you don’t…then… _don’t_.”

Harvey pulls back a little. “Do you really think I’d do that to you?”

Mike pauses, considers, and then all of the tension seems to leave him at once, melting away into a puddle at their feet. “ _No_.”

Harvey nods, looks into Mike’s eyes, looks for…yep, there it is.

This time, Mike doesn’t stop him.


	89. Chapter 89

Harvey braces his arm against Mike’s…kitchen? Bedroom? Kitchroom? Bedchen?… _dining room_ windowsill, looks out the window down at the alleyway. Behind him Mike shakes the plastic pretzel bag and, finding nothing, proceeds to giggle, and ask Harvey how he could have eaten the whole thing.

Look…he was just suddenly really, _really_ hungry, okay?

Mike giggles again, throws the plastic bag on the floor, and Harvey turns, giggles himself. “Your apartment is such a shitbox.”

“ _Heyyyyy_ ,” Mike says, in halfhearted protest, then giggles again, his gray hood-covered head tipped over the arm of the sofa. “You’re right… _tooootal shitbox_.”

“Reminds me of my first place, actually.”

Mike gasps loudly. “ _You_ had a shitbox?”

Harvey shrugs. His shoulders feel nice, loose. He does it again. “Everyone worth their salt lived in a shitbox once. It’s a rite of passage. But you’ve moved up in the world, Mike. Time to let your apartment move up in the world too.”

Mike tips his head back over the arm of the couch, meets Harvey’s eyes and asks, seriously, “If I went looking for a new place…would you go with me?”

“You want me to go with you?”

Suddenly the air feels a little thicker, and Harvey slides an index finger behind the already loosened knot of his silver tie and loosens it a little more.

“Well… _yeah_. I’d want you to be comfortable there too.”

“Is that right?”

Mike just nods, eyes fixed on Harvey’s. The joint is resting in Mike’s loosely held fingers, the back of his hand laying on the top of his thigh. His legs are spread, knees open, and he’s blinking slowly up at Harvey. Harvey nods toward the joint and Mike slowly holds it up above his head. Harvey leans forward and takes the joint in his mouth, his lips pressed gently up against the pads of Mike’s fingers. Below him Mike sucks in a deep breath just as Harvey fills his lungs and looks back down at Mike’s wide blue eyes.

Mike lets the hand with the joint fall back down to rest on his thigh, and Harvey leans forward, one hand smoothing down over Mike’s shoulder to rest on his chest, the other smoothing over Mike’s forehead to gently pull back the hood of Mike’s sweatshirt and run over his hair. Then he leans forward and presses his mouth to Mike’s, exhaling slowly, and feels Mike open up underneath him.

The exhale quickly turns into more, and Mike’s hand slips up and cups the back of Harvey’s head as Harvey’s tongue presses up against Mike’s.

Eventually Harvey pulls away, in need of air, his hand rising and falling on Mike’s chest as Mike takes in a deep breath of his own. Harvey brings up his other hand, rests it on the side of Mike’s head, his thumb rubbing soft circles into warm skin.

“Okay…I’ll help you look for another place.”


	90. Chapter 90

Mike hadn’t meant to adopt him. It’s not like he was dying to big brother someone through life, to impart his wisdom and knowledge and basically prevent them from falling on their face. Harold is a grown ass man, and he can fend for himself.

Except he really, really can’t.

+

“No, Harold, she’s not really interested in you. Yes, I promise. She’s a hooker, man. Say goodnight. Harold!” Mike sighs, looks over at the bedside clock. 12:57 AM. He can hear Harvey chuckling in bed next to him, his face turned the other way, and he resists the urge to smack him. “SAY. GOODNIGHT. GET IN A CAB. GO HOME.” Mike sighs again, closes his eyes and rubs them with a hand. “ _No, Harold…not with her_. Right…yeah. Call me when you get home.”

Mike hangs up and practically throws his phone on the side table, and this time Harvey doesn’t restrain his laugh.

“Shut up.”

“It’s your own damn fault, you realize.”

“How was I supposed to know that stopping a guy from committing work suicide was going to cause him to imprint on me?”

Harvey flips over and Mike slides down the pillows, huffs out a sigh.

“It’s because you’re nice. Nice people always get taken advantage of.”

Mike rolls his eyes. “Harold’s never taken advantage of anyone in his entire life. He wouldn’t know how.”

“And yet somehow you’ve acquired a baby duck.”

Mike groans. “I have, haven’t I?” He turns his head to look at Harvey. “Which means, you realize, that you’ve acquired a baby duck too.”

“Oh no…I am not a part of this.”

Mike rises, spins, straddles Harvey’s hips. “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is yours, right? That includes baby ducks.” Harvey just stares at him, but Mike can see the hint of a smile threatening to break through that tells him he won this round. “Besides, someone has to save him from Aaron and Jimmy.”

“And imaginary Nigerian princes with vast fortunes?”

Harvey’s fingers creep up under Mike’s t-shirt, brush against a nipple. Mike sucks in a sharp breath, and Harvey grins.

“I still can’t believe he fell for that one. Who falls for that trick these days?”

Mike doesn’t respond to that because, well, _Harold_. And because Harvey’s hands are incredibly distracting.

Harvey hums. “What’s yours is mine, huh?”

“Fraid so.”

“And that means I have to take Harold in the bargain?”

“Harold is a good guy.”

And he is, that’s the thing. Mike wouldn’t be sticking his neck out for him otherwise. And yes, he’s basically a disaster, but he’s also the kind of friend everyone could probably use: he’s helpful and kind and incredibly loyal.

Mike’s phone beeps and he picks it up.

“Harold?”

“He made it home okay.” His phone beeps again and Mike reads the text, blinks. Oh, _Harold_. “And then proceeded to lock himself out of his apartment. Without his wallet.”

Harvey seems to sense where this is going, because he stares hard at Mike and says, “Mike… _no_.”

+

To Harold’s credit, he’s an absolutely perfect house guest. He makes a spot on French press in the morning for Harvey, folds the blankets neatly on the end of the couch, and doesn’t seem the slightest bit fazed when he finds out his fellow associate is dating his boss.

+

Harvey strides into the bullpen, frowning when he doesn’t see Mike.

“Louis pulled him…said there was something he needed him for ASAP.” Harold looks apologetic as he says it, like it’s the last thing he wants to say to Harvey. “He didn’t say what, though.”

Harvey nods and starts to go through the stacks of files on Mike’s desk when Donna rushes in, tells him David Conrad is waiting for him. Shit. “Mike was supposed to finish the work on Cartman. Have you seen it?”

Harold says, “Uh…no, but I can find it for you. Get it to your office. It’ll be there when you get back from your meeting.”

Harvey nods at him. “Good.”

He slips around the last cubicle and is almost to Donna when one of the associates jogs up alongside him, says, “If there’s anything I can help you with, Mr. Specter, let me know.”

Harvey stops. “Look, Allen-”

He smiles, undeterred. “It’s Aaron, actually.”

Harvey nods. “That pretty much says it all, don’t you think?” He looks over at Harold, dismissing Aaron. “I’ll be back from my meeting in an hour.” 

Harold nods, and quickly begins to sort through the files on Mike’s desk.

_Fucking Louis_.

+

“I swear, he gets more demanding every time we meet.”

Donna wisely says nothing as she follows him into his office and hands over his mail. He take it and nods and she points at a file on his desk and says, “Harold brought that by about fifteen minutes ago.”

Harvey nods and she walks out of his office as he sits against the edge of his desk. He opens the file and starts to read, and quickly realizes this is not Mike’s work. It’s _good_ , but it’s not Mike’s.

He flips the file shut and strides out of his office toward the bullpen, stopping when he reaches Harold’s cubicle. He holds the file up in front of Harold’s face and says, “You wrote this.”

Harold looks up, mouth open and wide-eyed, like Harvey is about to yell at him. He stutters when he says, “Uh…sort of? Mike started it, but he didn’t have time to finish it, and I knew you needed it finished, so…yes?”

“It’s good work, Harold.”

It is. Harvey would never say it if it weren’t true. 

“Really?”

“Come with me.”

Harvey starts down the hallway, expecting Harold to follow him. As he walks by a nearby office, he can see the shadow of Harold in the glass, trotting along behind him. Harvey huffs a soft laugh, shakes his head, and pulls out his phone to send Mike a text.

_Okay. So we have a baby duck._


	91. Chapter 91

Mike twitches his pen back and forth between two fingers, taps the fingers of his other hand on the legal pad in front of him. He looks up and out through the glass walls on the other side of the table at opposing council, who’s pacing slowly in front of the wall outside of the room, cell phone pressed to his ear. Harvey reaches out a hand and lays it on Mike’s stilling his movements.

“I’m bugging the shit out of you right now, aren’t I?”

“It’s fine.” Harvey stays focused on the file in front of him, uses the tip of his pen to touch each line as he goes over the argument in his mind. “I understand.”

They will win this. They will win this because they hold all the cards, because their arguments are more than solid, because Harvey is simply not going to lose. Not this case. 

“Yeah.” Mike stares down at the table, turns his hand so that Harvey’s fingers are slipped into his. A momentary confession of need. “Now that I know she exists…” He swallows hard. “ _Harvey_ …”

Harvey squeezes his hand, once. He would do anything to keep that sound of desperate need out of Mike’s voice forever. 

“She’s your little girl, Mike. She’s our little girl. I’m not losing.”

+

_“Emma? Can you say hi to Harvey?”_

_A little face slowly appears from the side of Mike’s pants, big blue eyes looking right at Harvey, but her fingers remain clutched to the inside of Mike’s pant leg, holding on as though she’s expecting to be pulled away. Harvey crouches down to her level, smiles at her._

_“Hi, sweetheart. It’s really nice to meet you.”_

_She gives him a small smile, then looks up quickly at Mike. At her dad. At the dad she’s known for all of a day. At the dad she’s already looking to, relying on, trusting. Mike smiles encouragingly, cups the back of her head with his hand._

_“Are you my daddy’s husband?”_

_“Yes, I am.”_

_She nods, seems to consider that for a minute. Finally she asks, “Does that mean you’re my daddy too?”_

+

Opposing council comes walking back into the room, takes a seat on the other side of the table from them.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen.”

Harvey nods. “No problem.”

It actually is: a problem, that is. A basic stalling tactic meant to make them sweat and worry. But it’s fine. He’s about to walk out of here with his own ass in his hands, so Harvey figures he can afford to be a little gracious.

“My client is glad Mr. Ross wishes to be a part of her daughter’s life, and she is willing to give him a supervised visit once a month.” The lawyer - Groker - smiles as if he’s delivering Mike a precious gift. “And of course, there’s the matter of support to settle.”

Harvey smiles. “Of course. Emma needs to be taken care of, we all agree on that. Which is why my client is requesting full physical and legal custody of his daughter.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh…I am. Have you done your due diligence on your client, Mr. Groker? Because if you have, then you know just as well as I that she isn’t fit to be anyone’s parent. And I have a half dozen witnesses who are willing to swear to that. Do you want to take a chance in front of a judge? Because I will rip her apart in court.”

He clenches his teeth. “Fine, we’ll settle for joint custody.”

“No.”

Beside him, Harvey can feel Mike practically vibrating with anxiety as he watches the proceedings, silently.

“She’s an addict, and an unrepentant one who is known for leaving her young daughter with men she’s just met. She has willfully kept my client from his child for almost four years. But take me to court, Mr. Groker. Please. I’d love to show you just what I’m capable of.”

+

_“Yes, sweetheart. I’m your daddy too.”_


	92. Chapter 92

When Harvey wakes in the morning, every morning, he will lay there for a minute and listen to the sounds of his condo. It will be silent, as it always is now, but still Harvey will lay there, and still Harvey will listen.

After that minute he’ll sit up, swing his legs over the side of the bed, and he’ll listen again. By now his mind will have woken up enough to remind him that there is nothing to listen for, but still he will sit, and still he will listen. Every morning.

Finally he’ll slip on his wedding band, he’ll get up, and he’ll start going through the motions. He’ll make coffee, he’ll toast a bagel, he’ll read the Times and think about pulling out the comics section for a moment before he catches himself. He’ll leave the comic section with the rest of the paper, but he’ll stare at it a little longer. He’ll get dressed, and as he buttons his collar, he’ll think he hears something from the other room. But he’s tricked himself too many times to really believe that anyone’s there, so when he turns his head to check he will do it slowly, and he won’t be surprised when yet again he finds no one and nothing.

He’ll still be disappointed.

He’ll go about slipping on the rest of his daily armor, then he’ll stop by the console table by the front door, pick up his briefcase and his keys, and briefly run the tips of his fingers over the top of a silver picture frame before he leaves, locking in the silence behind him.

At work he will be the same as he always was. He will be charming or glib or efficient, depending on the situation, and he will always, always win. It is, after all, what will be expected of him. And Harvey has always been good at exceeding expectations.

When his work day is done promptly at five, Harvey will leave for home. He never stays late anymore, and Jessica never objects. His work is always done, after all, and it is always impeccable, even if it seems he has double the work now. He will strip out of the armor and into jeans, a henley. He will leave his condo and hail a cab, asking the driver to wait while he stops for takeout. Finally, the driver will drop him off at New York-Presbyterian, and he will nod at the receptionist as he heads for the elevator, his bag of takeout in his hand. He will get off at the fourth floor, and nod once more at a lady behind a desk, and this time the lady will give him a small smile in return. He will walk down the hall until he reaches room 468, where he will stop, open the door, and enter the room.

He will set his takeout down on the table next to the bad, take his jacket off and lay it over the back of the chair. Then he will lean over the bed and sweep a hand across Mike’s forehead and over his hair, he will take Mike’s left hand in his own, and he will look up at the machines to see if somehow something has changed. Nothing ever has, not since Mike caught a bullet in his back as he walked down the steps of the courthouse. The wound has healed, but Mike stays stubbornly asleep.

Harvey will sit, finally, and open his takeout box, but he will not let go of Mike’s hand. Harvey has become an expert at eating one handed, just as he has become an expert at routine. He will sit with Mike, and he will talk. He will tell him all the things he would have said that morning, had Mike been in the condo. He will tell him about his day, about the things Mike wouldn’t need to be told if Mike were awake. He will talk about the Yankees beating the Red Sox, and he will pause for a moment and wait for a snarky comeback that never comes.

He will pause sometimes, and he will watch Mike, and he will hope. When Mike doesn’t wake up and the end of the night comes, Harvey will squeeze Mike’s hand one last time, kiss him, and go home to a silent condo.

He will live this day over and over and over again, as many times as he needs to.

In good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, till death do you part, as long as you both shall live.


	93. Chapter 93

“ _Wow_ …that was _weak_.”

Gordon throws his head back and laughs, and it’s so infectious Harvey starts laughing right along with him, even as he tries to say, “Shut up, old man.”

“Didn’t you used to be _good_ at this?”

Harvey stops, points the end of the bat at him, left hand holding the grip, and says, “I’d like to see you do better.”

He shakes his head. “No chance. I’m two beers in.”

“Yeah…that’s what I thought.”

He turns, steps in the batter’s box again, swings the bat a few times like a pendulum then brings it back up to hover just above his shoulder, his fingers fluttering a little before coming to rest on the grip. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other before centering again and stops, waits for the pitch to come.

He’ll always regret that his baseball career ended, not that that was is choice. Tearing your shoulder in half has a way of making a choice for you. For a while it was difficult, but he’s glad he moved past it so he could do this, so he could spend a Saturday with is dad in the park hitting the ball around like he’s sixteen again and dreaming of a future in the majors.

Besides, he has a good life now.

The pitch comes and Harvey bends just a touch, squares up, keeps his eye on the ball.

And hits a soft drive that bounces once in the middle of right field and then continues on, bouncing several more times until it lands at the feet of a man in converse, sitting at a picnic table with an older woman. Harvey sets the bat down and goes jogging over, through the infield, and the man, seeing his approach, tosses him the ball underhand.

“Thanks.”

Harvey tosses the ball up once in his hand, catches it without looking. He’s too focused on the man sitting in front of him.

The man nods. “No problem.”

“That was a pretty weak hit, young man.”

Harvey’s eyes widen, taken aback, and then he can’t help it. He starts laughing. Hard.

The man in front of him sputters, says, “Grammy! Jesus…did you forget your meds this morning?”

Grammy just pats him on the hand a few times, not the slightest bit bothered by his embarrassment. The flush is creeping up his neck and he looks to be a half second away from getting up and disavowing any knowledge of her whatsoever.

Gordon comes walking up, a beer in each hand, and before Harvey can say anything, Grammy says, “Is one of those for me?”

Actually, one of those was Harvey’s, but he’ll gladly surrender it. It seems like his father had the same feeling, because he holds it out to her without a second thought.

The man in front of him, though, this man whose name he still does not know, looks as though he’d very much enjoy burying himself in the ground at their feet.

Instead he sighs and says, “My grandmother, Edith Ross.”

Harvey smiles, takes her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Harvey Specter, and this is my dad Gordon.”

Gordon takes Edith’s hand with a smile, and Harvey looks at the man in front of him, smiling softly at his grandmother, and says, “We still don’t know your name.”

His head swivels to meet Harvey’s eye and his mouth opens a moment, closes, and then he stands abruptly, holds out his hand. “Sorry. I’m Mike…Mike Ross.”

Harvey holds Mike’s hand in his own a little longer than necessary, shakes it slowly, keeps gentle eye contact. He’s smiling when he says, “It’s nice to meet you, Mike.”

“Would you like to join us for lunch?”

Mike pulls his eyes away from Harvey’s to say, “Oh, Grammy, they don’t want to-”

“We’d love to.”

Before Harvey can get the words out Gordon has already sat down at the picnic table across from Grammy, leaving an open seat across from Mike. Harvey quickly takes it, smiles at Grammy in thanks when she slides a plate toward him with a sandwich, potato salad, and fruit. He sets the baseball on the table in front of him and Mike tentatively reaches out and pulls it across the table toward himself, rolling it back and forth between his fingers. His plate is half empty and he picks up a grape with the other hand, pops it in his mouth.

“I know your name.”

Gordon pauses between bites. “You might. I’m a studio musician.”

She stares him down. “I saw you play in nineteen seventy-five at The Red Room. You were backing up Miles Davis.”

He nods slowly. “I was.”

She just nods. “You were very good.”

He smiles. “Thank you. He was better.”

She shrugs. “He was Miles Davis.”

His grin grows wider. “Yes he was.”

Harvey looks at Mike to see him watching them with a happy smile, Harvey’s baseball held loosely on the table in his right hand. As if he realizes he’s being watched, he slowly turns his head to look at Harvey and turns his smile on him. Harvey doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

“Your grandmother is…”

“Yeah. I know.”

Harvey takes a bite of potato salad and Mike’s eyes drop to his mouth. Harvey’s tongue darts out, licks his lips, and Mike takes a deep breath in, lets it out. And then it’s like neither of them can look away, as if transfixed.

The spell is finally broken when Harvey feels a hand clap on his shoulder and he looks up to see his dad standing next to him, waiting for a response to a question Harvey didn’t hear.

“Michael? Are you ready to go?”

Mike looks at her a moment then looks back at Harvey. “I think I have plans.”

Harvey feels the slow smile growing on his face. “Yes. You do.”

There’s a long pause and then Gordon says, “In that case, Edith…may I escort you home?”

Harvey looks away from Mike to see his dad pick a cooler up off the table and hold his arm out for her to take. She nods at him, takes his arm, and then pats Mike on the shoulder.

“Don’t forget to use protection, dear.”

Mike drops his head with a thud on the table and Harvey grins as he watches Gordon and Edith walk away through the park, her arm hooked in his, lunch cooler swinging from his hand.


	94. Chapter 94

The whispers start the moment the trio exits the elevator and skirts around the end of the receptionist’s desk, Jessica in her blood red knee-length Dior, Harvey in his pinstripe bespoke navy wool, the mystery man in his mix and match perfectly fitted three piece with the striped shirt and the skinny tie.

_That must be that new client Jessica and Harvey were meeting today. I heard he’s a tech billionaire._

_I heard he’s inheriting a huge family fortune._

_I heard he’s a Hollywood hotshot._

The trio smile as they walk down the hallway in one line, sharing small pleasantries and anecdotes as they make their way toward Jessica’s office. Along the way he clocks a half dozen employees making eyes at their guest. Harvey can hardly fault them for that: he is awfully nice to look at. Harvey may have spent a fair amount of time at lunch doing the same thing. 

When they reach Harvey’s office, Harvey excuses himself to grab a few files and get his messages from Donna, watching the other two as they continue on to Jessica’s office.

“Zombrinski called - he wants to move up the meeting to tomorrow.”

“No.”

“He sounded determined.”

“He always sounds determined. Tell him I’ll take him to dinner at Le Sel…he’ll back down.”

“Done.” She follows him into his office. “He’s the reason you cleared the first few hours of your afternoon.”

She doesn’t need to elaborate on who _he_ is, so when he walks over to the coffee table and picks up the small stack of files sitting on its top he simply says, “Yes.”

“Yet I don’t know who he is.”

“It seems that way.”

“I will find out.”

“I never planned on keeping him a secret.”

He didn’t tell her because she didn’t need to know - and because he’s enjoying knocking her down a peg or two. She’s taken far too many liberties lately, and it won’t hurt her to be reminded that she isn’t in control of his life, that she doesn’t have special dispensation to decide things for him. Harvey is her boss, not the other way around, and she needs to be reminded of that. It’s her business to know only what he decides she should know.

He turns and flips the file on top open to quickly scan the first page before he shuts the folder again. 

“What’s that?”

Harvey looks up to find Donna staring down at his left hand intently. He smiles. “That’s my wedding ring, Donna.”

She looks up, her eyes boring into his. It’s killing her that she didn’t know. “Since when are you married?”

She says it incredulously, as if it’s this impossible thing, this unbelievable act.

“Since I am.”

“You’ve never worn that ring before.”

Harvey, in fact, hasn’t taken it off since it was slipped on his finger. Just something else Donna doesn’t know.

“Yes. I have. You don’t notice everything, despite what you may believe.”

Jessica comes walking into his office and he walks over to her and hands her the file. 

“Harvey’s _married_.”

Jessica looks over at her calmly, lifts an eyebrow and says, “And?”

“Don’t you think he should have told us?”

“No. Because it’s none of my damn business, just as it’s none of yours. This is a _law firm_.” She takes a few steps forward. “Harvey is your _boss_ , and _you_ are overstepping. Now…isn’t there work you should be doing?”

Donna walks out of the room quickly, chastened, and Harvey and Jessica start down the hall toward her office. Just as they get out of earshot, Jessica says, “It really was a beautiful wedding.”

Harvey grins, and it grows when he sees his husband, sitting on Jessica’s sofa, waiting for them. Like Harvey said: he understands the ogling. No one does it more than he does. Mike is beautiful - especially in that suit. 

And he’s all Harvey’s.


	95. Chapter 95

“I don’t understand.”

“Which part?”

“ _Which part_?” Mike asks incredulously. “How about all of it. Look, I get that you do this every day, or whatever, but this is a first for me. And this is _my life_ we’re talking about, so…” He trails off then drops his head to his chest as his whole body seems to deflate at once. He sits on the edge of his dining room table and says, softly, “It’s a big deal.”

“Is that a no?”

Mike says, resignedly, “We both know the answer is yes.”

There’s a pause, and the man says, “Your grandmother is lucky to have you for a grandson.”

He stands, spins, looks out the window. “Yeah. I’ve done a bang up job of taking care of her.”

“You’re willing to sacrifice the possibility of your own personal freedom to make sure she’s taken care of. That’s not a small gift.”

He nods then turns his head to look at the man sitting in a chair across the dark apartment. “Why me, anyway?”

He just smiles. Harvey Specter, notorious mob boss, head of the Specter Family, just smiles at him. Like Mike should know better than to ask.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“There’s a _rat_ in my organization. I want you to find them.”

“Someone’s actually stupid enough to cross you?” Mike just shakes his head. “And what makes you think I’ll be able to find them?”

“You have an incredible mind and a sweet face. You’re good at making friends. It’s been my experience that people like you tend to be good at loosening lips.”

Mike’s face heats up and Specter smiles, shark like.

“You really think your people are going to open up to a newbie at the bottom level of the organization?” Specter just stares at him for a moment, patiently. Finally, Mike gets it. “No…they wouldn’t. And you know that.”

He says, “See? You catch on quick.”

“Yeah…it’s this brilliant brain.” 

_Crap_. Mike always knew he had shitty survival instincts, but sarcasm? He’s not going to survive long in mob captivity.

Except Specter is grinning even wider now, as if he’s _pleased_.

“So what’s the plan?”

“You’e going to come in near the top of the organization.”

Mike walks over to sit down on the sofa, leaning forward and bracing his arms on his knees. “Isn’t that going to make them trust me less?”

“Quite the opposite. Every single one of them will want to be best friends with the boss’ new boyfriend. With that face and no history in an organization like ours, they’ll think you’re prime for the picking.”

Mike sits up. “Your boyfriend?”

He nods. “We’ll move you in to my condo in a couple of days.”

“Your _live-in_ boyfriend?”

Mike looks around his apartment. It’s small, yes, but it’s his. But…not anymore. Nothing in his life will be his anymore.

Specter is almost gentle when he says, “I have too many enemies, Mike. If I left you here to fend for yourself, I’d never see you again.”

Mike swallows, looks up and says, as firmly as he can manage, “I’m not going to hurt anyone for you. I’m not going to kill anyone for you.”

Specter meets his eyes and says, “Agreed.”

Mike nods to himself. 

“You’re not muscle, Mike. You’re too important for that.”

“And Grammy?”

“She’ll be moved to her new residence tomorrow, just a few minutes away from our place.”

“Our place,” Mike parrots softly. “This is going to take me a minute to process.”

“I’m going to take care of you, Mike.”

“You mean in the biblical sense or the ‘they’ll never find my body’ sense? _Shit_.” Mike closes his eyes. “Sorry, boss.”

“It’s _Harvey_ , Mike. Not Boss.”

He looks over at him. “I thought everyone called you Boss. Or Mr. Specter.”

“They do.” Harvey reaches his hand up and loosens his tie, leans into the back of the chair, as if he’s content to stay for a while, here, with Mike. As if he has nowhere else to be. “You don’t.”

“Okay. Harvey.”

Harvey smiles, soft in the darkness. “There you go. Step one.”

He’s probably the most dangerous man in New York. And Mike is definitely a fool for saying yes. But it’s _Grammy_. Of course he said yes. He was always going to say yes.

Mike pulls the last two beers out of his fridge, holds one up toward Harvey. Harvey nods, and Mike uses the edge of the counter to pop the caps off each one. He hands it to Harvey by the neck and Harvey takes it, eyes locked on Mike as he tips it back.

“And what’s step two?” 

Harvey just smiles.


	96. Chapter 96

“Harvey…”

“C’Mon.”

Harvey gets out of the SUV and walks over to the other side, and when Mike doesn’t immediately get out, he opens his door for him, holds it open, and waits. Mike just keeps staring up at the building like he can’t believe it’s really there, as if it’s some mirage. As if the moment he steps out of the car and walks toward Harvey’s lobby, that the view will change, and suddenly he’ll be faced with steel bars instead.

“It’s okay.”

Harvey doesn’t know who he’s trying harder to convince. Maybe it’s the both of them. Maybe just like everything else, they’re in that together.

Mike gets out of the car finally, walks with Harvey across the sidewalk and into his lobby. He doesn’t say anything else - he just looks around like he’s drinking in the details he only deigned to ignore before.When they finally make it upstairs, Harvey pauses at his front door to pull out his keys and Mike stands so close their shoulders touch.

Harvey already called for takeout, and they have movies and beer. It isn’t enough, but what it is is a few hours in Harvey’s home with no bars and no guards and no fear.

Harvey will fix this. He _will_. But right now this is their reality. And in this reality, Mike is still an inmate at Danbury Correctional and Harvey still can’t sleep, and this is just a respite. Harvey just wanted to give him… _something_. Even if it isn’t enough.

And how can anything other than freedom be enough?

When Harvey sits down on the couch, Mike sits down next to him, close. They each have a plate of food on their laps and there’s a movie on. Harvey isn’t speaking because he’s not sure Mike wants that, and these few hours are for Mike, not him. So a heavy silence pervades the condo, and next to him Mike fidgets, as if he can’t find just the right way to sit.

“Mike? What is it?”

Mike shakes his head, picks at his food halfheartedly.

Harvey sets his plate down on the coffee table, turns toward Mike. “You can say it. Whatever it is, you can say it. You know that.”

He says quietly, “I wanted to ask you for something.”

“Yes.”

Mike lifts his eyes to Harvey. “You don’t know what I’m going to ask for.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

And it doesn’t. There’s nothing Mike could ask of him right now that he wouldn’t give. Harvey knows that’s true.

“Will you lay down on the couch?”

Mike isn’t really looking at him, but Harvey stands anyway, toes off his shoes, slips off his jacket and tie. He rolls up his sleeves and Mike stands, his plate in his hands, and watches Harvey as he stretches out on his back on the couch. Harvey looks up at him and doesn’t say anything, and Mike sets his plate down on the table next to Harvey’s before he climbs on the couch too, laying down half on top of Harvey. Harvey closes his arms around Mike and Mike presses his face into Harvey’s neck and lets out a long, deep sigh, his whole body going limp.

After a moment, Harvey feels something wet splash on his neck, and he tightens his arms.

Harvey will win this. He _will_.

But until then, they’re just going to have to hold on.


	97. Chapter 97

“This…isn’t what I ordered.”

Mike looks up and grimaces apologetically at the flustered waitress, who suddenly looks as though Mike has just told her she’s being evicted. 

“I’m so sorry.” She looks wrung out, harried, disconsolate. She gestures vaguely at the busy restaurant around them and says, “Two other waitresses called in sick today, and the busboy who was supposed to work today quit, and I couldn’t get a hold of the waitress who starts in a half an hour to see if she could come in earlier, and the bosses had a medical emergency with their daughter and-” She shakes her head suddenly, shakes the frustration off. Mike admires the hell out of that. “Sorry. That’s not your fault. Let me take care of that.”

She goes to reach for the plate but Mike holds onto it and stands. “No, it’s okay. I got it. I’ll figure out whose plate this is and make the switch - they probably have mine. You have a restaurant full of other tables to take care of.”

“Are you sure?”

He smiles, waves her off. “Yeah, it’s no big deal.”

She gives him a small smile and rushes off to grab food for a few other tables and, when he sees her pop back out of the kitchen, eight plates balanced on her arms and a smile on her face, he reminds himself to leave her a huge tip when he’s done with dinner.

“Okay!” Mike walks into the middle of the restaurant and faces the crowd, looks around at a sea of faces that are suddenly focused on him. “Is anyone missing their pork tenderloin and asparagus?”

Most people look away immediately, but some continue to watch him, curious he guesses. None of them claim the plate, though.

“That depends…are you missing your minestrone?”

The question comes from a table just behind him, and Mike spins and says, “Yes!”

The amused man pushes the bowl forward and Mike hands over the plate. He’s just about to pick up his bowl and make his way back over to his table when he sees a couple try to call out to the sole waitress running back and forth from table to table, setting down food, handing over checks, clearing off tables. This isn’t a big restaurant but she’s still way out of her depth, and Mike can see she’s on the verge of tears underneath her pasted on smile. There’s just too much to do, and there’s no way she can cover it all.

So Mike turns, grabs the water pitcher off the drink station, and starts walking around quickly to the other tables, filling glasses, telling the diners their waitress will be right with them. Then he grabs a busboy’s tub and starts clearing off tables. At one point the waitress - Jodi - stops for just a moment and squeezes his hand in gratitude and he just gives her a smile and a nod and grabs some silverware to reset the table he just finished cleaning.

By the time Mike finishes his rounds the other waitress has come in to fill the void, and Mike finally walks back over to the stranger’s table to pick up his soup, which is now lukewarm.

“Looks like the hostess gave away your table.”

Mike looks over at his table and yep - there’s a couple sitting there, menus in their hands, the new waitress standing off to the side, pouring water into their glasses.

“Yeah…looks like it.”

Mike just stands there, awkwardly holding his bowl when the stranger laughs softly, says, “Sit down.”

Mike looks down at the offered seat then back up at the stranger. “Are you sure?”

He nods and Mike sits down, picks up a spoon.

“That was a nice thing you did.”

Mike waves him off, takes a sip of his definitely lukewarm soup. “She needed help.”

There’s a long silence, and then he says, “I’m Harvey, by the way.”

He looks up, full spoon balanced in the air in front of his face. “Mike.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” Mike looks over questioningly at Jodi, who’s just appeared next to the table with a bowl in her hands. “There’s no way that soup is hot anymore.” 

She sets the bowl down and switches it out with Mike’s, taking the spoon out of his hand carefully and replacing it with a new one.

“And you’re not paying for that either. So don’t try.”

She gives him a small smile and hurries off without giving Mike a chance to get a word in. He hopes she can manage to snag a moment to rest, to get off her feet - if anyone deserves it, she does.

The stranger - no, _Harvey_ \- is leaned back in his chair, nursing what looks like a scotch, body angled outward, legs crossed at the knee. He’s some sort of big deal - that suit is too nice for him to be anything else. But he was also eating alone, and Mike is deeply curious as to why.

“So just how big of a bigwig are you?”

“What makes you think I’m a bigwig?”

Mike dips a piece of warm French bread in his soup. “The suit…the general air of importance…”

“I’m a senior partner at the top corporate law firm in the city.”

“So, yeah… _total_ bigwig then.”

Mike grins, leans forward as he takes a bite of his bread, holding it over his bowl.

“What about you?”

“Me? I am a small wig, at best. I am the tiniest of wigs.” At Harvey’s raised eyebrow, he adds, “I’m a self-employed graphic designer.”

“So you make the world prettier, and then on your off days you save damsels in distress?”

Mike sets his spoon down slowly. “Are you trying to charm me, Harvey?”

“Only if it’s working. Is it?”

Maybe. _Definitely._

_Damn it._

“Yes.”

A slow grin grows on Harvey’s face. 

“What?”

“I thought you were going to make me work a little harder than that.”

“What makes you think I’m _not_?”

His grin grows wider.


	98. Chapter 98

“You’re avoiding me.”

Mike stops, frowns at the files in his hands and looks up. “No I’m not. I was in the file room doing the work you gave me to do. Wait…what? Why would I be avoiding you?”

“You tell me,” he says, and gives Mike a look that, loosely translated, probably means something like _I can’t believe a genius could be this much of an idiot_.

Oh. The kiss.

“I’m not avoiding you, Harvey. I just have a lot of work to do.”

Harvey nods slowly, but he’s not accepting a single word out of Mike’s mouth as the truth. “You haven’t let yourself be in a room alone with me for the last week.”

“No, that’s not-”

Oh…yeah, no. He’s right.

To be fair, he never actually _intended_ to avoid Harvey. He really _has_ been busy. It was just…easier to stick his head down and keep working once he’d started. And having The Inevitable Conversation just wasn’t something he was looking forward to.

So, okay…maybe he has been avoiding Harvey. But this is A Big Deal, and it will kill Mike if it changes things, just when he was starting to get a handle on the mess that he calls his life. He’s good at being a lawyer - he’s really, _really_ good at it - and he doesn’t want that taken away.

He could say it was an impulse, but that’s only one piece of it. He could say he did it because Harvey is gorgeous, but that’s only a small part of it too. He could come up with a lot of reasons that would sound true enough, but are only small parts of a whole. And really, Harvey deserves the truth.

Even if telling the truth rips Mike away from his new life.

He never expected to fall in love with Harvey. But he did. And he won’t deny it now. He’ll come up with another way to survive and take care of Grammy too. He figured it out before, he can figure it out again.

Mike sits against the edge of the desk opposite Harvey with a sigh, drops the files in his hands halfheartedly onto his desktop. “I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable. I can be a little impulsive.”

“So you didn’t want to kiss me?”

“No, I did.” He looks down at his hands. “But you didn’t want me to kiss you. And that’s the problem. I’m in love with you, Harvey.” He looks up. “And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to screw up what we had. But I tend to be pretty good at that.”

Mike stands, picks up the messenger bag under his desk, slings it over his shoulder. He takes one good look at his desk, at the desks around him as if to fix them in is memory then nods once and starts to walk away.

“Where do you think you’re going? You still have work to do.”

Mike turns. “Harvey-”

“Stop sabotaging yourself. You didn’t screw anything up.”

“Not only did you not kiss me back, you backed away. I know what that means.”

Harvey stands. “You took me by surprise. You love me?”

Mike nods. “Yes.”

“And that’s why you kissed me?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Mike shakes his head. “Good?”

“Good.”

Then he steps forward and this time, Mike is the one who’s surprised when Harvey kisses him. Mike is the one who can’t move. Mike is the one who steps back.

Mike wonders if he looks as shell-shocked as he feels.

“You didn’t screw anything up.”

Mike licks his lips. “You kissed me.”

“I’m going to be doing that a lot now.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Okay.” He nods over and over and over again. To himself, to Harvey…he’s not sure. But he’s so startled by the turn of events he can’t seem to stop. Like if he does, it’ll stop being real, somehow. “So what’s next?”

“What’s next? Work.” Harvey walks over to Mike’s desk, picks up the stack of files he’d dropped there a few minutes ago, and hands them over. “You need to get through the Anderson bylaws by tomorrow and come up with a strategy.”

Right. _Work_. Mike can do that. He’s _good_ at that.

He pulls his messenger bag off his shoulder and drops it on the floor under his desk, dropping himself in his desk chair and opening the files.

He’s just uncapped his highlighter when he feels Harvey’s lips brush against his ear, his chest brushing Mike’s back. “How long did it take you last time? Six hours.”

“Uh…y-yeah…about that.”

He feels Harvey’s smile against his skin. “Tell you what…if you can do it in five, you get a reward.”

Five? Fuck that.

Mike’s going to do it in four.


	99. Chapter 99

There had been signs, but Mike had ignored them. He thought he’d just been seeing things that weren’t there, imagining reasons to walk away again. And more than anything, he didn’t want to be that guy.

They say you can find anything in New York City. Apparently, that includes cheating fiancées.

He’d just turned a corner and there she was: out in the open, her mouth on someone else’s, his hands all over her, her laughing into the night, her head thrown back. Loud, brash, like she thought it impossible Mike could show up and see her so it didn’t matter what she did.

Mike feels so, so stupid.

He doesn’t recognize the guy, and Mike doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. Though, he thinks almost hysterically, it would be hard to feel worse right now.

He pulls out his phone and takes a short video, forcing himself to watch a little longer, to keep his eyes on them. It feels a little like torture but also a form of absolution, and the more he watches the more resolved he gets. He knows what he has to do. It’s easy. She made it easy. But she didn’t make it less painful. That, he’s just going to have to slog through.

People leave him, they betray him. She did too. He shouldn’t have been surprised. But somehow, Mike always is.

Still, in this moment he feels fiercely, impossibly calm, though his entire world has just shifted, changed. He wonders if this is how Tess’ husband felt, if this is how Harvey’s dad felt, and he sends them both a silent apology for once being the Other Man, for being the Life-Changer.

He sits down at the bar at Meehan’s and asks for the best Scotch they have. He also orders a beer, and he drinks the beer slowly as he stares at the glass of Scotch sitting untouched on the bar in front of him. He pulls out his phone and sets it down on the bar next to the Scotch, but resists the urge to turn it on, to watch the video over and over again, to hurt himself more.

His phone rings and he looks down at the display. The only reason he picks it up is because he sees Harvey’s name.

“Hey, Mike. I was-”

“It’s not a good time, Harvey. Sorry.”

He hangs up, sets the phone down, and almost immediately it starts to ring again, Harvey’s name lit up on the screen.

“Where are you?”

Mike sighs. “Meehan’s. On west fourteenth.”

“Don’t move.”

He hangs up abruptly and Mike pulls the phone away from his ear, stares down at the screen, then shuts it off before the temptation rises to pull up the video, to watch her face as she laughs with another man. He stares at the glass of beer in his hands instead, and tries not to think.

When someone sits down to his right, he doesn’t look. He knows it’s Harvey.

“Mike?”

He finally turns his phone on, cues up the video, presses play, and slides the phone over to him without looking, taking a slow pull of his beer instead. There’s almost no audio - Mike was too far away to catch the small sounds. But Rachel’s joyous laugh comes through like a shot, sending a spike through Mike’s stomach.

“Did you-”

“No.” He shakes his head, taps the paperboard coaster under his sweating glass. “No, I never suspected anything. I just turned a corner tonight and there they were.”

“ _Mike_ -”

Mike turns his head, meets his eyes for the first time. “I know. Glass houses, right?”

Harvey looks at him a moment and Mike feels an uncomfortable pressure start to build in his throat, in his chest, behind his eyes. He looks away. 

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“No?”

“I was going to say I have room. I was going to say you don’t have to ask.” Mike looks at him. “I was going to say that’s not the last time someone’s going to love you. I was going to say the right person would never leave you. I was going to say it’s her loss. And it’s a big fucking loss.”

Mike swallows. “I thought you didn’t give love advice.”

Harvey sighs softly, fondly. Tilts his head. “Mike, you’re my exception. Don’t you know that? I may ride your ass, but I’m always going to be there. Especially when you need me. Or did me working to get you out of prison not prove that?”

Mike looks away, nods with a tight mouth and bright eyes, then drains the rest of his beer in one go. He catches the bartender’s eye and orders another one, and as he’s pulling Mike’s beer, Mike slides the Scotch over to Harvey.

“It’s the best they have.” 

“Of course it is.”

Mike looks over at Harvey - finally really looks - and sees he’s in jeans, in a partially buttoned henley. “Why did you call?”

Harvey smiles. “I was going to ask if you were hungry. If you maybe wanted to grab some dinner and catch a movie.”

“Yes.” Suddenly there’s nothing he wants more. He can’t imagine ever wanting anything more than he wants that right now. “ _Yes_. That would be great.”

Harvey nods. “What do you say we swing by the apartment first? Grab what you need?”

He doesn’t know if he has it in him to walk back into _their_ place and know it’s all done with. That they’re over. That there’s no they anymore. Mike was just getting used to that. To waking up next to someone, the same someone, every morning. To including someone else in all his decisions. To kissing them good morning. To having someone on your side when life doesn’t go your way.

_That_ …that’s the hard part of all of this.

“What is it?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. I was just thinking how nice it’d been to have someone. Someone who’s just… _there_. You know…for all the reasons it’s nice to have someone. Now I’m…all by myself again.”

“You’re not by yourself. You haven’t been by yourself since you walked into that room at the Chilton.” Harvey finishes his Scotch, sets the glass down, and pays the bartender for Mike’s drinks. As he slides his wallet back into his pocket he looks at Mike and says, “Neither have I.”

Mike nods a few times in slow succession, finishes his beer. “You and me then…huh?”

“You and me.” Harvey smiles and stands. “C’mon, Mike…let’s get you home.”


	100. Chapter 100

“Mike, why aren’t you dressed?”

He is wearing pants, at least. But his feet are bare, his shirt is on but unbuttoned, and his tie and jacket are nowhere to be found. He’s focused on the phone in his hands, holding it so carefully, as if he’s afraid it’s going to blow up and shatter them both. He looks up, stares at Harvey like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“You’re ready to go.”

Harvey gestures to himself then vaguely behind himself toward the front door, toward the world outside their door, toward the people waiting in a loft for them a half dozen blocks away in their nicest clothes. Of course Harvey’s ready to go. It’s their damn wedding reception. The real question here is why Mike isn’t.

“And so should you be. I realize a wedding reception can’t start without the grooms so we hold all the power here, but it’s a little tacky to keep our guests waiting, don’t you think?”

Mike doesn’t respond, just sort of nods halfheartedly, eyes still fixed on his phone. 

“Mike, what’s wrong?”

“It’s…”

He can’t seem to speak. Whatever it is, he can’t seem to say it, and Harvey calmly steps forward and lays is hand on Mike’s wrist. Mike looks up at him, eyes troubled, scared… _hopeful_. “Mike…what is it?”

Mike holds out his phone, plays a voicemail on speaker so Harvey can hear what Mike can’t seem to say.

_Mike. This is Heather. Look…I know we haven’t talked in a while or whatever, but…you have a kid. A daughter. Her name is Emma. I figured you should know. That’s why I’m calling. Call me back._

Harvey stares at the phone in Mike’s hand and keeps staring, long after the voicemail ends. He wonders what motivated her to keep little Emma from her father, what could motivate _anyone_ to keep _Mike’s_ child from him. If he’d known…Harvey doesn’t want to think about what Mike has lost, the things he hasn’t experienced with her.

Mike deserved better. Emma deserved better.

“Harvey?”

Mike’s tentative question brings Harvey back and he looks up, says, “Call her back. Tell her you want to meet your daughter.”

“Harvey, this is a big deal.”

He nods. “Tomorrow. Ask if you can meet her tomorrow.”

Mike shakes his head. “Why aren’t you freaking out? We just found out I have a daughter on the day of our _wedding reception_. You should be freaking out.”

“We were planning on having a kid, Mike. She just got here a little sooner than we were expecting. She’s yours. How could I freak out about that?”

“Because I’m freaking out about it.”

Harvey smiles. “It’s two against one. I think we can take her.”

Mike’s face seems to break and put itself back together, all at once. “I’m someone’s dad.”

“You are.”

Mike shakes his head. “We both are.” He laughs. “God, we have a kid.”

“Call her.”

Mike dials the phone, puts it to his ear, and Harvey walks away to retrieve Mike’s jacket, his tie, his socks and shoes. When he returns to the living room, Mike is just hanging up the phone, and Harvey lays Mike’s jacket over the back of the sofa, hands him the socks and shoes.

“She agreed to tomorrow.”

“Good.”

Mike slips on his socks quickly and Harvey reaches forward, starts buttoning Mike’s shirt.

“There’s something you should know about Heather. She has…problems. She might not make this easy for us. And I hate to say it, but there’s a good chance that what she really wants is money.” He takes a deep breath. “What if she’s…if she’s not…”

They both leave the unfinished question hanging there. It doesn’t need to be asked, and it certainly doesn’t need a response.

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow, Mike.” He waits, tie in hand, while Mike bends, slips on his shoes. When he straightens Harvey slips the tie around his neck, begins to tie it with expert hands. “Tonight we’re going to go to our wedding reception. You’ll drink too much champagne, we’ll eat overpriced finger food, we’ll mingle just long enough, and then I’ll bring you back home, strip you down, and fuck you into the mattress.”

Mike’s eyes brighten and his lips curl up at the corners little by little until he’s full on grinning, until the weight has gone out of his eyes. He leans into Harvey, kisses him slowly. When he pulls away, Mike is only smiles, only happy, and Harvey holds out the jacket for him to slip his arms into.

He pulls Mike to him again, buttons up the jacket. “Tonight we celebrate. Tomorrow? We start the fight.”


	101. Chapter 101

Mike shifts, flips over in the bed next to Harvey. He’s such a shallow, restless sleeper now, ever since the judge gave her ruling and they got to bring Emma home for good. Before, he could sleep like the dead. Now it always seems like he’s one floorboard creak away from popping awake, as if he’s trying to make up for all the restless sleep he didn’t get when Emma was a baby, before they both knew she existed. 

Harvey slips out of bed, looks back when Mike shifts again, waits to see if he wakes. He doesn’t, and Harvey quietly walks out of their bedroom and heads to the kitchen for a glass of water, glancing at the bedside clock before he leaves their room.

2:14 AM.

He passes Emma’s room, walking through the slash of light coming from her nightlight on the hallway floor in front of her door. When he gets his glass of water he leans against the edge of the counter and sips it slowly, not even a little tired despite the time of night.

Mike isn’t the only one whose sleep pattern has changed, but then a lot of things have changed in the last month. Schedules, priorities, the condo…just about everything has shifted to adapt their lives for another person, to make way for little Emma. Mike isn’t pretending to be a lawyer anymore, for one thing. They both agreed Emma was more important. But it’s in the little things too, the everyday things: the updated picture on Harvey’s desk at work, the juice boxes in the fridge, her little pink Chuck Taylors sitting in the entryway next to a pair of Mike’s gray scuffed ones.

Her Moana water bottle, sitting on the kitchen counter when it should have followed her into her room at bedtime.

Harvey picks up the water bottle and walks to Emma’s room, gently nudging the partially open door a little further so he can slip in quietly. He sets the bottle down on her nightstand and looks down at the bed, only to find a solemn Emma looking up at him, stuffed floppy bunny held tight in her arms. Her cheeks are flushed and there’s sweat on her forehead, and Harvey sits down on the bed next to her and lays a hand on her cheek. She’s burning up, and Harvey’s hand must feel like a blessing, because she closes her eyes and turns her face a little into his palm. 

Harvey stands and she grabs for him, her little hand gripping the hem of his t-shirt, her eyes wide and pleading even as she says nothing at all.

He reaches down and runs a gentle hand over her head, sweeping the hair back from her forehead. He gives her a smile. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

She hesitates, then releases her grip. But she keeps watching him as he walks out of her room, and when he walks back in a minute later, thermometer and cell phone in his hand, her eyes are still focused on the door, waiting for him.

He sits back down on her bed and puts the tip of the thermometer in her ear, mouth thinning when he reads the display.

103.4. High, but probably not enough to worry about needing to get to a hospital. Still, he pulls up the name of Emma’s doctor on his phone and puts the phone to his ear as he smiles down at her reassuringly.

Now that he’s sitting next to her again, her hand reaches out for him, this time closing around his pajama bottoms. He returns her gesture by cupping her face with his hand, showing her hopefully that he’s here, that he promises, that he’s not going anywhere. They’re still learning things about Emma’s early years without them, how neglected she was, the behaviors she adapted so she could cope. She isn’t even five and she already knows that sometimes adults lie. That sometimes they don’t keep their promises. That sometimes they promise to protect you, and they don’t. They’re not sure if she’s naturally a quiet, reserved little girl, or if she adapted to be that way, because she had no choice.

She isn’t even five, and she already knows how much the world can hurt.

Emma’s doctor picks up, and assuages Harvey’s anxiety with the self-assuredness of someone long used to dealing with nervous first-time parents. He tells Harvey to give her a kid’s Tylenol, and if her fever isn’t down later in the morning, to bring her in. 

So Harvey does, and Emma takes her medicine quietly, no fuss, her eyes locked on his face, her bunny locked in her arms.

It’s on the tip of his tongue to ask her why she didn’t wake them when he realizes he doesn’t need to ask. He already knows why she didn’t. Or, he can fill in the blanks. How many times did Heather turn her away before Emma learned not to go to her at all?

“You’re not feeling good, huh?” She brings her bunny up to her face and shakes her head. “The next time you’re not feeling good, I want you to come get us. Even if we’re asleep, okay? Come wake us up.”

She nods and Harvey runs his hand over her hair then, on impulse, slides both hands beneath her and picks her up, settles her in his lap against him. She goes willingly, tucks her head into his neck and fists a hand in his t-shirt and he stands, takes them out of her room to the darker, slightly cooler living room where he proceeds to pace slowly, back and forth across the room, rocking her gently.

For a while he doesn’t say anything, just holds her securely and rocks her, and then he starts to talk softly, starts to say things to her he doesn’t say to anyone this easily. That he loves her, that she’s safe, that he’s glad she’s here, that they weren’t a _they_ until she came.

He’s not sure she understands everything he says, or that she believes him even, and he has to accept that, even though it breaks him in two. But she fists her hand a little tighter in his shirt and he holds her a little closer, and he thinks maybe he’s wrong, that if any little girl could understand, that it’s this one.

She starts to slump in his arms, so he picks up her blanket off the arm of one of the chairs and wraps it around her, then settles on the couch, his back against one of the arms. He picks one of her books up off the coffee table and flicks on the lamp sitting on the end table next to them, and she rests her head on his chest when he opens up the book and begins to read, his voice soft.

“This is George. He lived in Africa. He was a good little monkey and always very curious.”

Just as he finishes the book Harvey looks up to see Mike approaching the sofa, a hand rubbing his unkempt hair. Harvey gives him a small smile that Mike returns, and he skirts around the sofa to sit on the coffee table in front of them. Harvey tosses _Curious George_ onto the floor.

“She’s got a fever.”

Mike frowns and reaches forward immediately to feel her forehead. He strokes a thumb over her skin and says, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling good, honey.”

“I called the doctor, gave her some medicine.”

Mike nods, but his eyes remain on Emma. “Daddy’s good at taking care of people, isn’t he?”

Emma nods on his chest, and Harvey presses a kiss into her hair.

Harvey points toward the pile of books on the table. “Why don’t you read the next one. You’re better at the voices.”

Mike takes the book and scoots a little closer to them, and Harvey rests one hand on Mike’s knee and one on Emma’s back as Mike takes over and starts to read the next book.

“In an old house in Paris that was covered in vines lived twelve little girls in two straight lines.”

+

Harvey is standing at the kitchen counter, stirring batter, when he feels a little body collide into him and wrap her arms around his leg. He looks down with a smile and immediately squats and picks Emma up, balancing her on his left side, holding her up high enough that their faces are level. She’s still pretty sleepy, and she yawns her morning breath directly in his face, almost as if to punctuate Harvey’s silent observation.

“Looks like you’re feeling better.”

She nods her head vigorously, gives him a little smile. She’s still a little flushed but she’s much less warm than she was about six hours ago, and Harvey’s grateful. 

“What are you doing?”

“Making breakfast. Do you want to help?”

“What are you making?”

“Pancakes.”

“YES.”

She says it so forcefully, so seriously, that Harvey can’t help but laugh. They are a pro pancake house, for sure. He pulls her stool over to the sink and sets her down so she can wash her hands and then he picks her up and sets her down on the counter next to the batter bowl, handing her the small bowl of blueberries to mix in. She takes them out of her small bowl and drops them in the batter bowl one by one then seriously, with a sort of concentration only four year olds can muster, begins to stir the blueberries into the batter achingly slowly as Harvey chops some strawberries and smiles to himself.

When she’s done he picks her up off the counter and sets her on the ground, pats her on the bottom, and tells her to go get Mike. She runs off and brings Mike back with her but instead of climbing up onto a stool next to him at the other side of the counter, she comes back into the kitchen and tugs on Harvey’s pants, asking to be picked up again.

This is new, and not just because she’s only been with them permanently for a month. Aside from the day they met, when she clung to Mike with the white knuckled grip of someone sure they are about to be pulled away, Emma doesn’t cling to them. She doesn’t ask to be hugged or held or picked up, which the psychologists have told them isn’t unusual for someone like her. 

As if there’s anyone in the _world_ like their little Emma.

“I can hold her while you cook.”

“No, I’ve got her.” Harvey kisses her on the top of her head and flips a pancake. “She’s not heavy.”

She could never be too heavy.


	102. Chapter 102

“What the hell are you wearing?”

Harvey’s laying in bed naked, sheet over his bottom half, one hand resting on his stomach, his head resting on the arm laying above him on his pillow. He raises an eyebrow at Mike’s choice of… _underwear_.

Mike turns, rubs a hand over his stomach and looks down at the tiny, tight, hot pink lace shorts, the thick line of his cock clearly visible. He looks up.

“You don’t like them?”

“Since when are you into wearing women’s underwear?”

He shrugs. “Thought I’d try something new. Spice things up a little.”

“You think we need spicing up?”

Mike walks over, kneels on the bed at Harvey’s feet, in between his spread legs. “Alright, poor choice of words.” He leans over Harvey, bracing himself on either side with his hands. “I just like to try new things.” He pulls the sheet away from Harvey’s body and lowers himself, slotting his hips along Harvey’s, rolling them just enough to create a gentle friction. Harvey grunts, steals a kiss.

The fabric is soft against Harvey’s skin but the texture is _maddening_ , and as he deepens the kiss, he slips a hand over Mike’s ass and under the fabric. His fingers slips down through the crease, find puckered skin and start to play, and Mike widens his legs, rolls his hips harder as he groans. He breaks away from Harvey’s mouth and bends to suck in his nipple and Harvey removes his hand and yanks at the sides of the lace underwear with both hands, attempting to pull them down off Mike’s body. He only succeeds at getting them just past Mike’s ass, and he grunts in frustration as Mike laughs against his skin and wiggles his hips, his cock peeking up above the lace.

Harvey slaps him on the ass and Mike laughs and kisses him.

“Frustrated?”

Harvey pulls at the lace, ripping it on both sides. He pulls it off and throws it away, off the side of their bed. “Not anymore.”

“So I guess they didn’t do it for you, huh?”

“You know what does it for me?”

Harvey wraps an arm around Mike’s shoulders and then in one quick move flips them, so Mike is laying on the bed, legs spread, and Harvey is above him, looking down, hips pressed against Mike’s. Mike laughs, throws his head back, and Harvey takes the opportunity to swoop down, nibble at the skin above his Adam’s apple. He nibbles, licks, and kisses a path up Mike’s neck, along his jaw, up to his mouth. All the while his hips roll and Mike’s respond right back in a well-known dance.

It doesn’t take long for Mike’s laugh to give way to breathy moans, and Harvey huffs breath after breath into the skin of Mike’s throat as he clasps Mike’s wrists with both his hands, holds them on the pillow above Mike’s head. Mike starts to breathe quicker, sharper, and Harvey says his name softly, like a chant. Mike sucks in one more breath then stiffens, body taut. Harvey’s name falls out of his mouth as he goes boneless, heavy eyes blinking up at Harvey as he smiles. Harvey’s almost there, and he kisses Mike then lets go of Mike’s wrists and braces his hands on the bed. Mike urges him on, his hands on Harvey’s ass, hissing as Harvey’s cock rubs repeatedly against his newly oversensitive body.

Finally Harvey drops to his forearms, his nose pressed to Mike’s temple as he feels his orgasm wash over him, his body tensing, his heart beating out of his chest, his breath coming in harsh, sharp pants. He kisses Mike deeply then lifts himself up, looks down at him.

“ _You_. That’s what does it for me.”


	103. Chapter 103

Emma is 13, and she still sees a psychologist every week.

She doesn’t mind - she actually loves talking to someone who isn’t her dads. She’s been with Cynthia since she was 8 and her first psychologist, Helen, retired, and she’s been a good sounding board and an excellent listener, but now it’s Cynthia’s turn to retire, and Emma will miss her. She’ll miss the way her wrists jangled from all her bracelets, and the way her long earrings sometimes got stuck in her curly hair. She’ll miss the way it always felt like she was having a conversation with an aunt, and not someone who was being paid to analyze the hell out of her. She’ll miss the small proud smiles and the kind heart, and the way she always, somehow, seemed to smell like peppermint, like it exuded from her pores. Now her grandkids in Florida will get all of that, and Emma will have Sophie, whatever that means.

Today is the day that Emma hates the most - the feeling-out day. The start over day. Cynthia turned out to be great, but she hated their first day together too. She never knows exactly what to say, and she doesn’t exactly want to come out and say _the reason you’re seeing me is because my biological mother neglected and abused me when I was tiny and I still have tons of not so great issues about that to the point where sometimes I still have nightmares and being left alone with strangers can trigger panic attacks. But I’m working on that._

It’s a lot for anyone to take in at once, even a psychologist.

“Emma?”

Emma looks up at a younger dark haired woman in a trim suit with a small, welcoming smile on her face, and stands from her waiting room chair. Her office is as pristine as she is, and Emma almost cringes when her flip flops flop against her heels.

She looks around the office, at the modern furniture and the monochromatic things in the bookcases and the diplomas from Oxford and Harvard and Stanford on the wall and feels ridiculously out of place in her flip flops and shorts and still damp hair, quickly braided in the back of the town car on her way from swim practice.

She misses Cynthia.

“Where should I…”

She gestures vaguely. Everything looks too nice for her to sit on.

“Sit wherever you like.”

There’s a hint of a British accent that Emma missed before, and she sits down on one end of the couch, legs pressed together, hands in her lap. Sophie sits down in a chair across from her and crosses her legs, smiles at Emma again, and doesn’t speak.

Her skin is starting to feel a little too tight.

“I don’t know where you want me to…start.”

She opens the pad on her lap and says, “I was hoping I could ask you to tell me a few stories.”

“Stories?”

She hums. “They can be good or bad or…whatever you like.”

Emma nods and thinks and stares at the diplomas on the wall. She worries the skin around her thumbnail until she feels a sharp pain and looks down to find her finger bleeding. She huffs at herself in irritation and sticks the side of her thumb in her mouth, sucking at it to stop the bleeding. Sophie holds out a tissue and Emma takes it, wrapping it around her thumb.

“It doesn’t have to be that story.”

Emma looks up. “Which story?”

“The one that’s causing you pain.”

Emma stares back down at her thumb, at the little spot of red blooming in the tissue, and remembered the way her dad had called her his incredible girl, his brave girl, the other day for no reason at all.

“It’s the right story to tell.”

So she tells the story about Heather, about being left behind with someone she’d never met before, about the way he smelled like cigarettes and looked at her a little too long, and about how she hid, over and over and over again, so that he wouldn’t find her.

It’s a story about where she comes from, and she hates it with everything she is.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

Emma nods, and stares down at her hand. Her finger has stopped bleeding and she takes the tissue off, balls it up, and slips it into her pocket. She imagines her dad finding it later when he does the laundry, and smiles to herself. One more thing for him to add to the “Emma’s Pockets” jar.

(The “Harvey’s Pockets” jar is just as full. They’ve turned it into a game now - what strange, fun things can they leave in their pockets for him to find? In his: ticket stubs and napkins with phone numbers and highlighters and sheet music folded small. In hers: marbles and found photographs and a bottle cap necklace and a broken pair of swim goggles.)

“What’s making you smile?”

Emma takes the cup of water and says, “I was thinking about the next story.”

“A happy one.”

“The day I met my dad.”

She tells Sophie about how cold it was that day, about how she wasn’t wearing a jacket because she didn’t have one, how the first time she saw her dad he was standing in front of the playground equipment in a gray hoodie with his hands in his pockets and he looked _kind_. That she didn’t know that word then, but she knew that’s what he was. She told her about how when he’d introduced himself as her dad he’d gotten down on his knees and smiled and waited for Emma to make the first move and she’d wanted to burrow into him so far Heather could never take her away. 

She tells her about how she’d climbed up to the top of the slide and when she got there, he was waiting at the end to catch her. About how she’d climbed up to the top of that slide a dozen more times and each time he was there. She told her about being pushed on the swings and running on the grass with him until she was out of breath and laughing and laughing and laughing. She tells her about the too big sweatshirt he’d bundled her in, and refused to take back when Emma had to leave. How she kept her eyes on him until she couldn’t see him anymore. How he watched her the whole time she walked away from him. 

She tells her about how Heather never looked up from her phone. Not once.

“Were you ever afraid you wouldn’t see him again?”

She shakes her head. “No. Never. I always knew that I would. I may have been only three and a half, but I knew.”

“How did you know that?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. Just the way you know things sometimes, I guess. Or maybe it was the way he looked at me.”

“And how did he look at you?”

“Like all he wanted to do was keep looking at me, every moment of every day, for the rest of his life. Like it hurt him when I had to leave him.”

Sophie writes something on her pad then says, “It’s a good story. Bittersweet, though.”

Maybe to her it is. But to Emma it will always be a perfect memory. The start of happiness. The beginning of her new life, opening up in front of her.

“The happy story is the last one.”

When Emma was five they took a family trip to St. Lucia. It wasn’t the first family trip they took together, or the last, but it’s the most vivid. A beautiful island with sandy beaches surrounded by gorgeous blue water, and a lavish house, just for them, with the most incredible pool.

And Emma was absolutely positively _terrified_ of the water.

(She was scared of a lot in those days. She’s getting better.)

“My dad sat on the pool deck with me in his lap because that’s the only way I’d get close to the water. Then my other dad, he came swimming up to the deck and just stopped there and smiled at me. Like I made him happy, like he loved me more than he could say. And I wanted to be there with him, in the water. Even though it scared me. And he held out his arms to me, like somehow he knew that, and even though it scared me, I jumped into them. And then he put his hands under my stomach and held onto me, and I started to swim.”

“He taught you to swim.”

She nods. “After a while he took his hands off, and I didn’t notice, but he stayed in front of me so that I could always see him, so I could always swim to him. So even if I was scared, and I was, I knew he was right there. And nothing would happen to me.”

She spent the rest of the vacation almost entirely in that pool with her dads, learning to swim. When the time came to leave, the only way they could get her out of the water was with promises of swim classes and reminders of the pool in their building back home.

“What do you love most about your dads?”

Emma blinks. She thinks it should be obvious, based on her stories.

“They make me feel brave, even when I’m scared.”

She gives Emma a small smile. That makes Emma feel like she gave the right answer even if that’s a stupid thought to have because this is _therapy_ and there’s no such thing, really. It would be just as correct to say her favorite thing is that they’ve never turned their backs on her, or that they fought like hell for her, or that they _love_ her so much, she can’t feel the end of it.

“Our time’s up.” She closes the pad on her lap, rests her hand on it. “Thank you for sharing those stories with me.”

Emma nods.

“Same time next week?”

+

They’re waiting for her when she gets out of her appointment, standing close together in front of the car, leaning in and sharing secret smiles. She loves it. She loves how much they love each other, how open they are with it. It makes her feel safe.

She comes bounding down the stairs and they turn and smile at her.

“Dads.”

“Offspring.” Her dad reaches back and opens the car door for her and asks, “How was it?”

He lost the jacket he had on this morning, his tie is a little looser and his shirtsleeves are rolled up, but the vest is still there. He looks like he’s done with work for the day, but she wonders why. It’s one o’clock in the afternoon on a Tuesday.

She pauses as she steps down from the curb. They’re both smiling at her but their smiles are nervous and anxious, expectant. Not bright, like they should be. She hates that. She hates that she does that to them.

“Good.”

“Yeah? Good enough to keep her?”

“I think so.”

“Good.”

She slides in and they get in on either side of her and when she looks up, Ray is smiling at her through the rear view mirror. She thinks of all the times he suffered through playing Disney albums for her in the front seat when he’d probably rather have been playing something else, and the way he sang along with her, just because it made her smile.

She looks at her dad. “Are you done with work for the day?”

“Done with the office. Dad and I are going to take you to lunch and then drop you off at your dry land training, and then dad’s going to help me with a case.”

She lets her head fall back against the head rest. “Ah, my favorite part of being a competitive swimmer: medicine balls and squats.”

He grins. “How about you pick where we eat lunch?”

“Deal.”

He hands a file across the car to her other dad who takes it, flips it open and starts to read. His sunglasses are sitting on the top of his head in the dark car and he’s wearing a gray t-shirt and jeans and he looks down at her and gives her a small secret smile, and she just _loves him. So much_.

“I told her about the day we met.”

“Yeah?” he asks softly. His smile grows as he looks down at her. “That’s one of my most important days.”

“Mine too,” she says softly back.

“Mine three.”

“I was so worried, you know?”

She didn’t, actually. Know that.

“I was worried you wouldn’t like me, or you’d be scared of me, or…that you wouldn’t see any of yourself in me. That you wouldn’t want to know me.”

Her other dad huffs a laugh. “Thank god for those eyes.”

Their identical electric blue eyes.

Her dad reaches a hand back and cups the back of her head and pulls her forward, touches his forehead to hers. “I love you, kid. Always.”

When she pulls back she turns to her other dad who’s already smiling at her like _that_ , like he did _that day_ , and she says, “I told her about Saint Lucia too.”

His smile couldn’t be brighter. “Yeah? You told her about how I taught you to swim?”

Emma _loves_ the water - has ever since that day she jumped off the deck and trusted she’d be caught. But more than that, she’s _good_ at it. Really, really good at it. She cuts through the water like a fish. That’s what her coaches say, anyway. But she’s never thought of it that way. She prefers another phrase, one she heard her dad say on a video he was taking of one of her meets. She hit the wall on her last fifty meters, pushed off, and pulled away from the rest of the field, out-swimming everyone.

_Look at our girl, Harvey. Look at her fly._

“I told her about how you taught me to fly.”


	104. Chapter 104

“You never cut Trevor off, did you?”

Mike can hear the deep, deep disappointment in Harvey’s voice and it makes him ache.

“No, I didn’t. He’s my _friend_ , Harvey.”

“He’s not your friend. He’s an addict. And this is what addicts do. The minute they start making progress they screw up.”

“Harvey, nothing you can say is going to stop me.”

Mike starts forward and Harvey puts gentle hands on his chest, pushes him back. He gestures between them and says, “When we started this, what did we say?”

Harvey means this, _lawyers_ , but he also means this, _them_. Harvey hadn’t asked Mike to let Trevor loose as his boss, he’d asked it as his _person_ , as his _boyfriend_. 

Mike was as surprised as anyone when the live wire spark of their first meeting became dinner in a dim, intimate restaurant which became a shared cab, sitting so close their thighs pressed together, which became a kiss at Mike’s front door, which became a pile of rumpled clothes on Mike’s floor, which became a shared morning shower and coffee and a bagel and a _get your ass to Harvard and learn everything you can_ sealed with a kiss as Harvey left for the firm.

And he was just as surprised that when he got back from Harvard, it was to find Harvey waiting at his front door, bag of takeout in his hand and a speech on his lips.

_Your job isn’t contingent on you spending time with me. I want to be clear on that. But I like you, and I’d like to keep seeing you outside of work, if you’re amenable._

They’d agreed to keep it out of work during business hours, and that Jessica needed to be told, though Mike half regretted it now. Every time she looked at him, it felt like he was being measured for something. Or against something, maybe.

Thing is, he’s not even sure Harvey is really his _type_. Not if you look past his snarky mouth, anyway. 

“We said no secrets, no lies.”

“You mean other than the fraud thing?”

Harvey frowns. “From each other.”

Right. Not a good time to joke, then.

“Mike, what the hell is going on?”

And see, Mike would challenge _anyone_ not to spill their life story, their secrets, _everything_ to Harvey when he looks at them _like that_.

+

Mike paces restlessly at the foot of the stairs, rubs a hand through his hair, checks his watch again. Harvey’s only been inside for a couple of minutes, and already it feels like too long. He can handle himself, of course he can. Doesn’t mean Mike isn’t going to worry. He pulls open his jacket one more time, checking that the ticket to Montana is still there.

When Harvey finally comes walking down the stairs, Trevor just behind, Mike lets out a breath but crumples inside when all Harvey will grace him with is one small, disappointed look.

Trevor calls himself a dick, which Mike definitely doesn’t correct him on. What he does? 

“I wasn’t the one who saved you.”

Harvey’s pissed at him right now, and incredibly disappointed, but that doesn’t stop Mike from smiling at Harvey’s retreating back. 

“As a friend, that guy puts me to shame.”

“Harvey’s not my friend.”

“Well, he didn’t put his ass on the line because of me.”

Mike gives him his ticket to Montana, hugs him. And when Harvey motions him into the car with one finger, Mike bows his head and goes, quietly. They sit in tense silence for minutes that seem to stretch on for much longer, and when Mike can’t stand it anymore, he says, “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

Harvey turns his head and looks at him.

“I was really worried when you were up there.”

“Well now you know how I would’ve felt if I’d let you go without an explanation. And _you_ would’ve gone flying after him without a plan.”

Mike winces. He’s been stupid about a lot of things.

“We’re a team. At work, outside of work. A team. Did you think I was going to let them hurt you?”

“They wanted to hurt Trevor, not me.”

“Same difference.”

Mike was wrong. Harvey is exactly his type. He’s smart, gorgeous, snarky, an _incredible_ kisser, and stupidly loyal to whoever he decides has earned that privilege. And Mike has.

This thing he has with Harvey, it scares him a little. It’s _big_ , so so _big_. Already they’re more than just _something_ to each other, that the enormity of what they can be staggers him a little. He’s finally heading in the right direction, and that’s all because of Harvey. Harvey taking a chance on him, Harvey trusting that Mike is exactly who Harvey thinks he is. And it makes Mike sick to think he’s already disappointed Harvey, already let him down. 

Mike doesn’t know if he’s allowed, but he reaches for Harvey’s hand, holds it tight in his own, and looks him in the eye. “No more secrets, no lies.”

Harvey looks at their hands, then looks up and smiles, just a little, just enough. “You want to buy me dinner?”

Mike smiles, relieved. “ _Yes_. That’s exactly what I want to do.”

“You realize I’m not a cheap date.”

He laughs, turns and watches the city go by outside the car window and then turns his head back to find Harvey looking at him fondly, and _yeah_ , he’d do _anything_ for that look too.

It’s big, whatever this thing of theirs is. _Huge. Lie about having a degree from Harvard_ huge. _Save your oldest friend from drug dealers_ huge. _Lie to your genius client about a 20 million dollar mistake and take the blame_ huge.

Mike squeezes Harvey’s hand.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way.”


	105. Chapter 105

“Harvey! I - What are you doing here?”

It’s pretty safe to say that the last person Mike expected to find at his door tonight was the man he’d broken up with last night via text message. 

They’d been dating for three months, and it was _good_. Great, even. Harvey made him laugh, he was incredible in bed, and he had a habit of looking at Mike like he was the only one in the room. Breaking up with him was just about the last thing he’d wanted to do. But Mike’s life is complicated right now, messy and imperfect, and Harvey deserves someone who can give him attention and time and focus.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at that benefit for CASA right now?”

“I am. And so are you.”

“Harvey-”

“So I put on my tux, intending to go to the benefit, and I found myself here instead. Because I realized I don’t want to go if you’re not with me. And I was curious - I wanted to know what I could have possibly done for you to break up with me over a text message.”

Look, it was cowardly. Mike knows that. But he couldn’t have said it to Harvey’s face, he couldn’t have had an actual conversation with him in any way, shape, or form because he would’ve caved in a half second. He would’ve folded under pressure like a goddamn lawn chair. And not because Harvey is persuasive, because he sure as hell is, but because Mike likes him _so damn much_.

It’s just that his life is made up of mistakes and bad timing. He had no choice.

Harvey slips past him into the apartment, his hands in his pockets. Mike takes a quick, panicked look over his shoulder, and is relieved to find the bathroom door shut.

“Is there someone else here?”

There’s a stiffness to Harvey now, and Mike hates it. He’s staring at the door behind Mike as if he can carve through it 

Mike glances back at the bathroom door and says, “Yes, there is, but it’s not what you think.”

“It’s not what I think?”

Mike has never been particularly _great_ at relationships, but even he knows that when someone repeats your own words back to you in a tone that calm, that measured, it’s probably not a good thing.

Mike sighs, purposefully meets Harvey’s eye and says, “Addie? Can you come out here honey?”

Mike hears the door open behind him and knows that a seven year old in pink cupcake pajamas has just stepped into the bathroom doorway, but he doesn’t turn, he doesn’t look back. He watches Harvey instead, and gets to the see the moment he softens and smiles, the moment he meets Mike’s incredible, beautiful, rainbow of a girl.

Harvey’s eyes track her as she steps up to them, and he crouches down in his tux and gives her a smile that’s only hers, and Mike is _lost_. 

“Hi, Addie. It’s nice to meet you finally.”

She smiles at him, her hairbrush in her hand. “It’s nice to meet you too. Are you staying for stories? Dad does really good voices.”

Harvey straightens, slips his hands back in his pockets, and says, eyes fixed on Mike’s, “I’d like that.” 

“Did you brush your teeth?”

She shakes her little head, wrinkles her little nose, and heads back into the bathroom. Mike watches her push her step stool back up to the sink and reach forward on almost tip toes to grab her toothbrush and toothpaste before she nudges the door mostly shut with a wide swing of an elbow. He hears the faucet turn on.

“And pick up after your bath.”

“You have a daughter.” Mike turns his head away from the bathroom and back toward Harvey. “You have a daughter.”

He sounds full of equal measures of wonder and devastation, as if he’s drawing up conclusions in his own mind about why Mike didn’t say anything about her before, about why he didn’t introduce them.

“That’s why I never came inside.”

“It’s not you.” When Harvey gives him a look, Mike rolls his eyes and says, “Harvey, you’re the first person I’ve dated that I wanted to introduce to Addie. I like you. _A lot._ Things are just… _complicated_.”

“Explain it to me.”

Mike runs a hand over his head, resigned. “Addie - Adelaide - was born when I was in college. I met Addie’s birth mom Victoria at a party. We hooked up and then we went out a few times, but it didn’t take us long to figure out we just didn’t work. So we parted amicably, and then a month goes by and she shows up at my door and tells me she’s pregnant. She also tells me she’s not interested in being a mother. I told her I was interested in being a father, and nine months later, I’m holding my little girl in the hospital and thanking Victoria for having her.”

Mike steps over to the shelf near the TV and picks up a frame, hands it to Harvey. Addie and Victoria smile from behind the glass, rosy cheeks pressed together, bright knitted hats on their heads. Mike took it the last time Victoria was in town, when they took Addie to the snow covered park and had a messy, uncoordinated snowball fight. Mike still isn’t sure which one of them won.

“They have a really good relationship, but Victoria’s not her mom, and she doesn’t act like it. More like a really cool, benevolent aunt. She takes her shopping when she’s in town and sends her postcards, and brings her trinkets back from all the places she’s visited. Or, she did.”

“She did?”

Harvey hands over the frame, and Mike takes it back, sets it down. “There was an accident. Victoria’s in a coma.”

“I’m sorry, Mike.”

Mike nods. “Addie and I went to visit her one day, and we happened to run into Victoria’s parents. Addie doesn’t look a ton like Victoria, but…”

“They put it together.”

“They did. And now they’re trying to argue that I don’t provide a suitable home for my kid.”

Mike is comforted by Harvey’s anger. It matches his own so nicely.

“They’re desperate. It’s likely their child is never going to wake up, so they’re grasping at whatever piece of her they can still find. Victoria by proxy.”

“And Victoria was an only child, so…you can see why we can’t date right now, Harvey.” He rubs his hand over his head again. “There’s just…a lot going on. Too much. I can’t drag you into that.”

“Didn’t Victoria sign a custody agreement?”

Mike shakes his head. “We never needed one.”

Harvey nods as if he already knew that, as if he were just waiting for Mike to say it out loud. “I have three things to say to you.”

There’s a clink of a toothbrush dropping into the glass on the edge of the sink, a scrape of wood against tile as Addie moves her stool back to its place.

“One - I reject your text message.”

“You can’t, Harvey.”

“I can and I do. You don’t actually want to break up with me, you just think it’ll be easier on me. Which is incredibly stupid for someone who’s supposed to be a genius, by the way. So I refuse.”

“Harvey-”

“Two. Tomorrow I’m meeting with Jessica about representing you. We’re not going to let Victoria’s parents take Addie away from you.”

Mike rubs at his face with his hands and Harvey asks, softly, “You could have asked, Mike.”

He shakes his head. “I couldn’t use you like that.”

He looks up and Harvey is looking at him, so soft, so intense, so open, and Mike can’t breathe.

“Three. I have a proposal for you. Marry me.”

Mike’s voice comes out in a pained whisper. “ _Harvey-_ ”

“I know what I’m asking. And I mean it.“

“Do you?”

Harvey smiles, a little exasperated, like he’s a mile ahead of Mike and waiting for him to catch up. “I love you, you idiot.”

Mike looks away, his throat tight. When he looks back Harvey is still giving him that same fond, slightly exasperated expression.

Addie comes out of the bathroom, walks right past them as if they aren’t having some major, life changing conversation, as if Mike’s world isn’t suddenly tilting on its axis, and crouches down in front of the shelf with her books, overstuffed and branched out to stacks on the floor and a slightly wobbly stack on the top that’s taller than she is, looking for just the right book. 

He thinks of a place with adequate shelves for her, a place with room to grow instead of this cramped little place that’s all Mike can afford. He thinks of her growing up with Central Park just a step away, the snowball fights the three of them could have. He thinks of her growing up with two parents.

He thinks about waking up in bed next to Harvey every morning, about going to bed with him every night, about sharing a life with him.

Harvey mouths, _Marry me._

_Yes._


	106. Chapter 106

There was a day, just after his parents were killed, where Mike remembers sitting outside the principal’s office at his school. Grammy was inside, meeting with Mr. Franklin, and Mr. Franklin had gotten a little careless and left the door open just the smallest bit, so that Mike could hear everything they were saying. It wasn’t a bad meeting - Mike hadn’t cheated off of someone’s paper or punched anyone or made anyone cry, in fact this was his first day back at school since the accident - but it was still strange to hear himself talked about by two adults who thought he couldn’t hear them. He remembers Mr. Franklin telling Grammy how well he was doing in his classes, how he was well liked, and then he remembers him saying this:

_It’s so good of you to take him on like this_.

He’ll always remember Grammy’s exact words, and how her voice came out, forceful and thin.

“He’s my _grandson_. He isn’t a project - I’m not _taking him on_ like he’s a stray cat. He’s the person I love most in this world. If he needed me to step into traffic for him I would. And I wouldn’t think twice.”

Mike thought he understood what she meant then, but he didn’t. He didn’t really get it, not until now.

Which is exactly why he’s about to throw himself into traffic for Harvey.

Loving someone doesn’t come with expectations. Mike knows it’s likely Harvey will never love him back, not the way Mike loves him. He can accept that. But they’re too close to the edge now, too close to the secret coming out, and someone is about to slip and fall off the cliff. Mike won’t let that be Harvey. Mike will never let that be Harvey. If Mike can protect him - and he can…this is one of the few powers he has - then he absolutely will, without hesitation.

Grammy was absolutely right. Jumping into traffic is easy when the person you love most needs you to do it.

Signing this letter and handing it into Jessica is the easiest thing he’s ever done.

+

The pounding on his front door comes at just past ten, unrelenting and loud. Mike hurries across the apartment, tripping over the edge of the rug and just barely keeping his balance. The last thing he needs is Mrs. Rahimi in 2B to file a complaint against him.

He swallows, and pulls the door open.

A piece of white paper is thrust in front of his face, crumpled at the corner where it’s held in a tight fist. Mike sees his own name, Jessica’s, and the word Resignation, flashing like an inky beacon in front of him.

“What is this shit?” The paper falls away and Mike finally gets a look at Harvey’s face, furious and fiery and clenched. “Is this how you repay me?”

“Yes.”

And the thing is, Mike has believed in fewer things in his life as strongly as he believes in this. He’s _right_. He knows he is. There’s nothing more honest, more compassionate, more right that he can do for Harvey. They’re playing a losing game, and they both know it. One day _very very soon_ , someone is going to find out what they’ve been doing. And whoever they are, they will not let what Harvey’s done stand. Mike absolutely _cannot_ let that happen to him. He loves him too much.

So he threw himself into traffic.

“After everything I’ve done for you, how could you do this?”

Mike says, “How could I not?”

Harvey crumples then. He looks _gutted_ , and no, that’s not right. That’s _not right_.

Mike pulls Harvey into his apartment by the sleeve of his coat and shuts the door quietly behind them. He stays by the door, presses his hands flat against the wood behind his back, and says, quietly, “How could I not do the one thing I _knew_ I could do to make sure you were safe?”

“Mike-”

“You gave me the world, Harvey. You gave me everything. And it only seemed right that when that world began to crash down, that…I save you. Like you saved me.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone knows, Harvey.”

“They’re bluffing.”

Mike shakes his head, walks past him to the kitchen for a glass of water. He’s tired. “They’re not.”

“Mike-”

“How long did you think it was going to be before someone figured out I never went to Harvard? Or checked the BAR for my license?” Harvey presses his lips together and Mike says, softly. “The quickest route to hurting you is figuring out I’m not who I say I am. And I’m not about to let _anyone_ hurt you, not if I can help it.” 

Harvey drops into the chair at Mike’s table, lets the paper fall out of his hand. Mike walks over and sets the glass of water down in front of him, and Harvey grabs his wrist gently, turns Mike’s hand over so his thumb is rubbing the inside of Mike’s wrist. He stares down at Mike’s wrist and says nothing for a few minutes.

Finally he says, “You deserve to be there.”

“Maybe.”

He shakes his head, like Mike is an idiot, like Mike shouldn’t have said anything at all. Like Mike doesn’t know something important. 

His thumb rubs a pattern in Mike’s wrist. It gives him goosebumps.

Harvey sighs and leans back in the chair, and all the tension in him seems to fall away all at once. He looks up at Mike, his hand still holding Mike’s wrist. “Everything. That’s what I wanted to give you. That’s what you deserve.”

“You gave me more than I deserved.”

“No.” He stands, steps closer. “I was just getting started.”

Mike licks his lips and Harvey’s thumb presses down against his pulse point. “Harvey.”

“We won’t have to submit any paperwork to HR, at least.”

“ _Harvey_ …” He lets out a stuttering breath. “If you don’t meant it… _I…you_ …”

Harvey reaches up with his other hand, brushes a thumb over the edge of Mike’s cheek and says, with a soft sort of fondness, “You’re an idiot.”

When Harvey kisses him, Mike feels like he can’t breathe. 

Which is an appropriate thing to feel, he guesses, when you’ve been hit by a car.

But that can happen when you throw yourself into traffic.


End file.
